The Gathering of Heroes
by CokeFreak
Summary: It has been ten years since the War of the Ring, but Mordor is stirring once more. Who is behind this, and when the Fellowship gathers in Gondor once more how will they, and those joining them work together to find the evil that once again threatens their
1. The Letter

**Welcome to our story. This was written by my friend and I during school. It's the best place to write. So it's a crossover of LoTR/Troy/Harry Potter/Gladiator and I think that's it. We don't own any of the characters, they belong to Tolkien mostly, but Homer owns two of the characters. And whoever wrote Gladiator owns those characters too. We also know we have changed history in the Lord of the Rings a little bit. We know this, and we did this to make our story as hot as we could. If you don't like how we changed history and kept a few characters around for a little longer, you don't have to read it. However, we hope you like it, we had a lot of fun writing it, and please R/R. Thanks so much.**

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_Men are haunted by the vastness of eternity, and so we ask ourselves: Will our actions echo across the centuries? Will strangers hear our names long after we're gone, and wonder who we were? How bravely we fought. How fiercely we loved._

The third age of Middle Earth was a time of distrust, betrayal, death and secrecy, which ended in the great War of the Ring, in which many died and suffered to achieve a peace that had not been known in the world for many years. The leaders during these times will forever be remembered as some of the bravest warriors time has seen. The fourth age began with the coming of the King of Arnor and promised peace throughout Middle Earth. The races of Middle Earth prospered under the king and the peace he brought, and together the lords and kings created harmony in the world they loved. This peace, now ten years past, has again been threatened and awaits the answer of those heroes who remain, and those who await the chance to show their valor in the great next battle.

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The year 1431 was known for the beautiful flowers blooming, the plentiful harvest and the hobbit lads and lasses that were born that year. The Shire was especially beautiful in Buckland where, by the Brandywine River, two hobbits could be seen enjoying the nice early spring day. Between the two hobbits lay a small hobbit child of one year old, who was sleeping peacefully, fully aware of the protection of two hobbits who loved him dearly.

Residents of the Shire could be seen readying the fields for the coming planting season. Even the smallest hobbit child was hard at work, from bringing tools or water to the adults, to learning how to work with their small tools. Spring was a busy time for the hobbits, working from sunrise to sunset. However, two hobbits were sitting by the banks of the Brandywine River with no responsibilities and no worries.

"You should be proud Master Took," one hobbit spoke softly to the other as not to wake the sleeping hobbit child. They both peered down at the sleeping baby. "You have done well for yourself."

"Thank you Master Brandybuck," Master Took gave a short bow with his head to the first hobbit. "I am sure that one day you will have all your dreams fulfilled."

"Master Meriadoc Brandybuck!" a strange, young hobbit voice interrupted the silence and peace of the afternoon.

Meriadoc Brandybuck, or Merry to his friends, stood up. A hobbit tweenager was coming toward the river, clutching in his hand a large letter. Knowing that a letter that big could not be from anyone in the Shire, Merry started to walk quickly toward the young hobbit. He extended his hand out as soon as he reached the hobbit. "Thank you." He smiled, taking the letter.

At being spoken to directly by the great Captain Meriadoc, the tweenager nodded his head, amazed and scared. He let go of the letter and ran off as fast as his legs could carry him in the opposite direction. Merry would have laughed, but he was staring at the letter. He quickly opened it up as he walked back to the bank of the river. He stopped not too far from the Master Took and read the letter.

"What is it?" Master Took, or Peregin Took, asked his friend and cousin.

"War is coming. We ride to Gondor at once," Merry looked up, clutching the letter. "Faramir asks for us, we cannot let him down. Sam and Frodo have to come with us, the Fellowship is forming again."

Peregin, or Pippin to his friends, looked down at his son, Faramir Took. Though sleeping, he took the small child in his arms, "The man you were named after has called me back to service. I had hoped this was all over, but I see it is not. Come young Faramir, we must get back to the Great Smials at once." He stood up, clutching the same child in his arms.

"I'll be back tomorrow, at which time we ride."

The two hobbits nodded to each other, both aware that when they thought peace had come, the world was in trouble again. Only that would have made Faramir, Prince of Ithilien call them back to service.

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The next day as the sun came up, Merry stood by the door of Brandy Hall waiting for the arrival of Pippin. He was dressed and ready; he had packed his Rohan armor but was not wearing it. They had to go to Bag End first, he would ride out of the Shire proudly wearing his armor. He held Faramir's letter in his hand, the letter that had asked for them at once. He did not speak of the enemy, but hinted that trouble was brewing near Gondor and everyone was being assembled. He requested the brave young hobbits to assist in the war, and represent the race of the Halfings.

"Hullo there cousin," Merry was shaken from his thoughts by the arrival of Pippin who, like Merry, did not have his Gondorian armor on. Merry could see it on the horse though.

"I've been up waiting for you," Merry smiled.

"Of course you have," Pippin laughed, "well then, let's go! We should ride for an hour or two, and then stop for breakfast."

"Of course, though I am sure you ate before you left."

"Diamond made me eat," Pippin shrugged.

"Of course she did," Merry laughed. It felt wonderful to be back on the road with Pippin. Though they often rode to Bag End to visit Frodo and Sam, this time was different. They would be seeing their friends in a month or two. He felt like singing.

Many songs were shared and sung in their long ride. Pippin and Merry knew many songs, and they sang them all the way to Bag End, a two day journey. On the way, singing their songs, farmers and the hobbits working looked up, and their hearts were warmed to hear the songs. Some waved, and the two hobbits waved back, one enjoying the attention more than the other. They arrived in Hobbiton, at Bag End, in time for supper. They did not like to intrude on Frodo and the Gamgee's but they did. They knew they would be welcomed. Hobbits loved having other hobbits over for dinner.

This time was no different. They knocked on the door, to be welcomed in by Hobbiton's Mayor, Samwise Gamgee who had a large spoon in his hand. He shook both their hands, and asking a hundred questions invited the cousins inside. Rosie Gamgee was sitting at the table holding their newborn child, Goldilocks while children Elanor, Frodo, Rose, Merry and Pippin were being watched by Frodo Baggins.

"Merry! Pippin!" Frodo stood up wearily, "it's so good to see both of you."

"I wish we can on better times Frodo," Merry took out the letter from Faramir. "The time of peace is over, Faramir requests us to come to Gondor as soon as we can."

"Gondor? What evil lies there now? Can they not have a moment of peace?" Sam asked.

"It seems not," Pippin smiled at the young hobbit lad of five years old who had been named after him.

"If it is all right with Rosie, I'll go with you," Sam volunteered.

"Thank you Sam," Merry smiled. "Faramir has asked for the four of us. The Fellowship is forming again."

"Well let us talk of war later," Sam suggested. "Now you being a Brandybuck, and you a Took, I know both of you are hungry."

"Sam you have great common hobbit sense," Pippin smiled, and the two hobbits sat down for a meal with the Gamgees.

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Early the next morning, Merry woke Pippin, Sam and Frodo. Frodo looked tired and weary. He had his hand near his chest and held on to the chain that he always wore around his neck.

Rosie cooked breakfast for the four travelers. Most of the young Gamgee children were still sleeping, Elanor however being ten years old was awake and helping her mother. The second oldest was also awake, ready to start another long day of work.

As Sam ate he sat across from his son lecturing the young boy, "Remember, my boy, to be careful with those flowers. You know the set up of Bag End, just care for them, water them, be gentle, and don't go adding anymore flowers."

"I know Da. I've been working the gardens for two years now," the younger Gamgee sighed, knowing full well on the care for the flowers.

Merry laughed, "Don't turn him into a worrying fool, Sam."

"I remember your Gaffer giving you the same speech. Be easy on the lad."

"Just don't want me flowers messed up. The Lady Galadriel gave those to me."

"We were there Sam," Merry laughed. He sighed, looked down at his empty plate, and then stood up."The day is wasting," He had not wanted to break up breakfast but it was time to go. The day was wasting, and Merry knew if they did not leave soon, war would come and they would be left behind. In Merry's mind that was worse than being involved, they had to go, they had to fight for the safety of their friends.

"Up you three," Merry told them. He went off and grabbed his small bag.

Pippin was up next and he put his small bag on his shoulders. He nodded to Merry, who nodded back. They were ready. They both did not have on their armor; they would put it on when they reached the borders of the Shire, for now though they were still just hobbits.

Sam got up and took his large bag and put it on his shoulders. He lifted a much smaller and lighter bag and held it out to his master who remained sitting.

"No Sam, I am not going," Frodo shook his head wearily. "Not this time."

Sam stared at him in disbelief. He then started to shake his head; "You don't mean that. Of course you are going." He looked around to Merry and Pippin, and then back to Frodo, "Come on Mr. Frodo, they are waiting for us."

Merry and Pippin walked up beside Sam. Merry, who had known his cousin the longest, was not surprised. He had seen what effects the War of the Ring had on Frodo, and the wounds he had taken. He had known in his heart that they would journey with three, and not four like the first time.

"My part in this tale is over Sam. You have so much to give to the world, and to be." Frodo stood up and put one hand on the table for support, "I am sorry Sam, but I have failed once, I cannot risk the safety of everyone again. Tell them I am sorry, and I wish them well. Go now." He kissed the top of Sam's head. He turned to Pippin, "Guard of the Citadel, look after the Steward and the King for me." He turned to Merry, his favorite cousin, and the one he had looked out after while he lived in Brandy Hall. Though years separated them, Merry had always been his companion and friend. He did not say anything at first, but just took his hand. He patted it and then looked at the scar over Merry's right eye, "There is much you have yet to do."

Merry nodded. He stood there as Frodo gave him a brotherly hug. "Watch over the Shire for us Frodo."

Frodo gave him a small smile; "The day is wasting."

"Yes, it is time," Merry agreed.

The three travelers stood there for a moment, all wondered what the days would bring and when they would be home, sitting in Bag End or Crickhollow peacefully. Today was much different from the last time they had left; they were not the naïve hobbits they use to be. They were heroes in the land, and experienced war hobbits being called back to duty. They knew the dangers and what lay ahead.

Merry walked out the door with Pippin and Sam behind him. Merry and Pippin did not look back at Bag End, but on the doorstep, Sam looked back at Frodo. He tried to smile, but only a frown appeared. He turned and followed the other two hobbits down the path to the road leading out of the Shire.

"Rosie will look after him," Merry told Sam. "Don't worry about him."

"He has the strength to go on this journey," Sam shook his head sadly. "I'd look out for him."

"Sam it was his choice. He wants to go with us, but he has done his deeds in life. You have looked after him, and now he is looking out for you. Let him." Merry reasoned with Sam.

"But what if he falls ill again?"

"Rosie will take care of him. We have our own concerns. Let Frodo be."

Sam though was torn in two; it was his job to watch over Frodo, he had promised that he would. He had promised Gandalf. Yet he couldn't, and now he had to be far from him for the first time ever. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Frodo.


	2. The Fellowship Reunited

It took one month to reach Gondor. They rode sometimes throughout the night, not yet fearful of the roads. With a king on the throne, the roads were always being watched and soldiers rode along the roads during the day.

As the three hobbits entered the realm of Gondor and came up to the White City they all stopped to see Minis Tirith rebuilt. The sun was setting, and an orange light glowed on the circular city. The three riders stopped their horses and let their eyes wander around, looking at the White City and the lands that lay around and beyond.

"Merry look!"

Merry looked to his left gaping.

There was an army of troops, orcs, marching toward the White City. They were marching on Pelannor Fields.

_A hundred thousand Orcs_

King Theoden yelling death 

_His answering cries_

_The charge_

_The White Lady of Rohan_

Merry kicked his horse, "Toward the White City! Ride!"

He urged his pony on, trying to forget the events of Pelannor Fields, and escape the orc army that was coming toward the city. They had arrived just in time. War was on the doorstop.

It took a few minutes to get to the city gates. As they got closer, Merry took out his Rohan horn and blew it. He hoped someone would understand the meaning of the horn, and would not mistake it for an orc horn.

Legolas, Gandalf, Gimli, and Aragorn all looked up. They had just ended another meeting. They had been sitting and talking about days past, and memories of the last time they had all been gathered here.

"That is no orc horn!" Legolas smiled. They went to the window to see three small ponies, with even smaller riders, approaching Minis Tirith. "Open the gate!" Legolas called down to the gates. Not sure if they heard him, he descended down to the city gates himself, followed by the wizard, man, and dwarf.

The hobbits were inside and talking to the guards when the rest of the Fellowship arrived. Gandalf walked swiftly and quickly for an old man. He opened his arms to the hobbits; "Our Fellowship is now complete." He surveyed the hobbits, his eyes twinkling, and his soul lightened. He then realized a hobbit was missing, "Where is Frodo?"

"He couldn't come. He is sorry, but some wounds go too deep," Merry explained.

Gandalf's eyes fell and his shoulders slumped. He could see the ring bearer in his mind, sitting in Bag End, tired and weary. He had put that pain on the naïve hobbit. He leaned more heavily on his staff; the burden of the illness of Frodo was heavy on his shoulders. He tried to smile but found nothing. Silence followed the last statement by Merry. Everyone knew the consequences the War of the Ring had on themselves, but most exceptionally on Frodo Baggins, the Ringbearer. Gandalf sighed deeply, the hour would come when he would grieve the Ringbearer, and make peace with his suffering and feeling of lost, but now was not it. War was upon them, and before him stood the other three brave hobbits.

"Why doesn't someone show you to your rooms, and then we can all meet in the Dining Hall for an early supper. I know you must be hungry," Gandalf suggested, to which the three hobbits agreed.

"Well yes, I for one am hungry, it has been an hour since I last ate!" Pippin smiled and thought about his last meager meal.

Gandalf laughed, "Come dear friends, let us eat, and enjoy this peaceful hour."

A soldier took the three hobbits' ponies to the stables, and another soldier led the hobbits to their rooms, which were near the rooms of the members of the Fellowship. After washing up, they all headed to the Dining Hall, eager to eat.

The Fellowship was waiting for them. Aragorn sat at the head of the table with Faramir on his right, and Gandalf on his left. Eomer sat next to Gandalf and a child sat between Faramir and Eowyn, the White Lady of Rohan. A strange man sat next to Eomer, he was clad in a gold set of armor that resembled Gondor's armor. Gimli, son of Gloin, sat next to Rohan's king. Next to Eowyn sat another boy, about the same age as the first one, and Arwen, the Evenstar, was at the other end of the table. Between Arwen and the boy, there were three spots, and the hobbits quickly took their place at the table.

"Maximus, Anborn, Eldarion and Elboron let me introduce to you three brave hobbits," Gandalf addressed the four people in the room that were not familiar with the hobbits. The others beamed down at the small folk remembering their jokes and heroics. "To your left Eldarion are Merry Brandybuck, Soldier of Rohan, and then Pippin Took, Soldier of Gondor, and Samwise Gamgee, who was the servant and friend of the Ringbearer during his adventure."

The hobbits stood and bowed to the three people they did not know.

"Mother, why can't I be a soldier of Rohan or Gondor? I am bigger than they are!"

Everyone laughed. Eowyn smiled down at Elboron and spoke, "They are fully grown hobbits, Elboron. They are hobbits, or halfings, your father has mentioned them to you before."

"How old are you?" Elboron asked Merry.

"I am forty-nine years old, young sir," Merry smiled at the boy, "And how old may you be?"

"I am nine years old," the boy said proudly.

"As am I!" the boy sitting next to Merry proclaimed.

"And whose son are you?"

"Elboron is my son, Merry," Faramir spoke to him from the other end of the table. "Eldarion is Aragorn's."

"Then it is a pleasure to meet you, Master Elboron, and Master Eldarion," Merry smiled at both boys.

"Are you married, Merry?" Eowyn asked.

"No, my lady. Sam and Pippin are though. Sam married the fair Rosy Cotton not long after we returned home. Pippin just recently married Diamond."

"Congratulations, Sam and Pippin," Arwen, who sat next to them, gave them a smile. "Do you have any children?"

Merry laughed, "Children? Sam is trying to have his own Fellowship!"

Sam blushed, "I have six children, Eleanor, Frodo, Rose, Merry, Pippin and Goldilocks."

"And you Pippin? You have been quiet this evening," Arwen asked.

"I have one son," Pippin smiled at the memory of him. "His name, well his name is Faramir Took. I always wanted to remember the Captain who I admire."

Everyone who knew the relationship between Faramir and Pippin smiled. Faramir was looking at his plate, and finally he looked up. "I do hope to meet the child who bears my name." He smiled.

"I hope you do too. It would be an honor for me, and my wife, for you to see him."

They ate for another hour. Gimli told them all about Legolas and his trip to Fangorn Forest and Helm's Deep. Legolas sat and added in a few comments about their journey, but let the dwarf do most of the talking. Faramir informed the hobbits of the rebuilding of Ithilien and the regrowing of trees that had been destroyed in the War. When they were done, Eowyn spoke to her son and Eldarion, "Go and play now. There is business to discuss."

"We never get to know what is going on!" Elboron complained.

"That is because you are too young, go and enjoy your childhood!" Faramir laughed and escorted them out. He closed the doors to the Dining Hall behind them.

The two boys could be heard for a few seconds running and yelling, already forgetting that they were too young to be involved in talks of war.

"Your sons are wonderful," Merry told Faramir and Aragorn.

"Thank you Merry," Aragorn smiled. "I know that one day you will be blessed with a wife and children."

Merry nodded, thanking the King for the kind words.

"Now that dinner is over, can we know what is going on? Your letter was urgent and lacked details," Pippin looked around at the men gathered.

"Yes it is time," Gandalf agreed with the youngest hobbit.

Faramir nodded, "Anborn why don't you start."

A man stood up. The hobbits had been introduced to him but he had not spoken to them, yet. He was clad in the Gondorian armor and he sat near the end of the table. "It began in Minas Morgul." He said in a slow, soft voice. Merry had a shiver run down his back, the voice made him feel uneasy.

"Minas Morgul?" Sam's eyes widened and he shivered but for another reason.

Gandalf and Faramir looked sympathetically at the hobbit; they knew why that name brought fear to the hobbit, though no one else did.

"As most of you know, the land of Mordor has been quiet and uninhabited for years since the War of the Ring. I, along with others, believed we should take back the land and settle it, for it is the land of our ancestors. Our plan was to wash away the filth and waste of Mordor and bring people to settle in the lands, and restore the cities back to their state when they were first made. Just a year ago, we went into Minas Morgul and spent months cleaning and searching the deserted city. However, two months ago, we were attacked by Orcs. I was sent to Minas Tirith by my Captain with a letter for King Elessar. Near the gates, I heard the horns blowing and I knew there was trouble. I considered riding to Minas Tirith and bringing back more men, but I knew by then it would be too late. I had to go and help my friends as much as I could. I went back to kill a few Orcs, but there were too many of them and I was forced to retreat to my shame."

"Did you go back with men and kill the Orcs?" Merry asked.

"There are too many, all it would do would be kill more Gondorian soldiers. Has not Gondor done its share in the war for peace? Enough men have been killed I say!"

"Who is their leader?"  
  
"They were just Orcs under no command," Anborn argued.

"But some would not agree," Gandalf raised an eyebrow. This argument had been going on for two months now. "Not long after the attack a messenger came to Minas Tirith. As I was not here at the time it is not my place to give an account of the conversation, I believe that would be your's Faramir."

"Thank you, Gandalf," Faramir now stood. "As Gandalf said, a messenger came to the city as I was visiting the King. We both went out to see the messenger who claimed to be from Melkor. For those who have not studied their history, Melkor is a god, one of the gods who created Middle Earth and those who walk its lands. Sauron was Melkor's lieutenant, in his time started wars, and was the reason for many good elves and men dying. The messenger rode up, as night was falling, calling for the King. As I said, both King Elessar and I went to see what it was he wanted. He rode a black horse, and was dressed in black robes reminding me of the Black Riders. He told us that Lord Melkor was offering a peace agreement between Gondor and the gods. He would give us all the gold we wished and the power to control and keep all of Middle Earth. If we did not agree to this, he would destroy the city and all that we hold dear."

"King Elessar told the messenger that he had spent his life fighting the Dark Powers, and he would not stop now. If Melkor attacked, he would bring his full army and answer the challenge. He told him then to remember the results of the War of the Ring.

The messenger then replied that, "The Lord Melkor is gracious and will give you time to change your mind. I will be back." He then rode off. Since that night, we have been preparing the troops for war, and every day scouts report that their army is preparing for war. It will come before the week's end."

"Did Melkor order the Orcs to attack the men inside Minas Morgul?" asked Merry.

"That is where we disagree. Some say yes, some say no. Some think that Minas Morgul is the stronghold for Melkor, others say no. We do not know anything for sure."

"I believe we surprised the orcs, they have no connection to Melkor," Anborn spoke up.

"But it's a possibility," a soldier remarked.

Gandalf was getting weary of this argument. "War is coming, why don't we plan our attack," he suggested to Faramir who nodded.

A map was put on the table and everyone crowded around it. "Our enemy, wherever is stronghold is, will be marching from here," Faramir pointed at the heart of Mordor. "Spies and scouts have seen their troops. Our attack should be swift and not come near the gates of the city, our objective is to keep them out of the city. I have suggested to the King that we trap them using our fine horses and soldiers. Maximus, you will lead the charge from the side of the city. There is a cave in the mountain that can hold five hundred men and horses, you will wait there for the signal. Eomer, take your Rohan soldiers and charge in from Osgiliath. You and Maximus shall charge at the same time and attack from both sides."

"Where am I being placed, Faramir?" Gandalf asked.

"I would be honored if you rode with me, Gandalf," Eomer bowed his head and spoke before Faramir had a chance to answer.

"Then I shall, and King Elessar shall ride with us."

"You are planning a battle without us, Cousin?"

Everyone looked up from the map of the city to see two tall men enter the room. They were dressed in Gondorian armor, with swords at their sides and scarlet cloaks around their shoulders. They were both smiling broadly and they stopped walking. The taller one, by not that much, opened his arms and exclaimed, "No hug, Cousin?"

"Hector! Paris!" Faramir laughed. "I thought I asked your father for some warriors? I have no time for jokes!"

"Oh give me a hug and I might forget about your harsh words. We got your letter just a few days ago, Father had no time to gather his army, so he sent us."

"And a fine army that is," Faramir hugged Hector and then Paris. "Welcome back to Minas Tirith. It is good to see both of you."

"We saw two boys running around outside, one of them cannot be baby Elboron?" Paris spoke now. He smiled broadly and everyone in the room could still see traces of his boyish face. Clearly, he was the younger brother and now the youngest in the room.

"I'm sure it was. We sent him and Eldarion outside to play. They are both nine years old now."

"They get big so quickly!" Hector patted Faramir's shoulder, "while their father gets old quickly."

Faramir shook his head, "How have you been Paris?" He ignored Hector.

"Good, things have been quiet in Dol Amroth. Trust you to stir things up." Paris smiled. "What did you this time?"

"Who do we have to fend off for you?" asked Hector.

"Out of the three of us, I seem to remember being the only ever involved in war," Faramir looked at both of them. Faramir then smiled at Paris, "I didn't realize they let boys fight now."

"I have been involved in war, I made Boromir eat dirt every time I beat him," Hector joked. "Dear Boromir, how I miss him. It does me good to see you, makes me think of the happy times we shared growing up." Hector and Faramir then looked at Paris who looked angry.

"I am no boy! I am of age!" Paris looked insulted.

"I was joking cousin. If your father sent you then he deems you are fit for war. I will not argue." Faramir laughed. He turned back to the others, "Well let me introduce you to the others," Faramir had forgotten that they were not alone in the room. "This is Maximus, Anborn, Gandalf the White, Merry Brandybuck, Pippin Took, Sam Gamgee, Gimli and Legolas. Everyone, this is Hector and Paris, they are my cousins from Dol Amroth, and they are late as always."

"Be easy on us, Cousin, Paris had to inspect all the towns just to make sure they were in good condition," Hector turned to his brother.

"Yes, I'm sure that is all Paris is concerned for... the welfare of Gondor," Faramir and his cousins walked up to the group and everyone shook hands.

"You are halfings?" Paris stood in front of Merry.

"Yes we are," Merry nodded.

"I have heard of your deeds in the War of the Ring, I am honored to be able to fight with you," Paris gave a short bow. "I grew up with the stories of the War!"

"Thank you," Merry bowed back.

Faramir looked around, "Well we better get back to business. Now there should be soldiers in front of the gates, to be the first line of defense."

Everyone turned back to the map and the planning continued.

"I will do it," Legolas volunteered. "With the King Thranduil's permission, Glorifindel and I would like to be there protecting the city that has done much in previous years for all people and elves."

"It could mean your death!" Faramir shook his head.

"An alliance once existed between elves and men, and we have come to honor that alliance. Allow us to stand and guard this beautiful, white city," Glorifindel said.

"I could not say no to anyone willing to fight bravely and honorably for something they love," Faramir smiled at the elf lord. "Legolas and Glorifindel will lead the elves from the front of the castle.

"I shall stand with you my friend," Gimli told his friend

"I shall be honored," Legolas smiled down at the dwarf.

"I will be with a group of Gondorian soldiers inside as the last defense. My archers will strike at their army to help the elf army," Faramir told them. "My Brothers, war is upon us. Let us stand together men, elves, dwarves, hobbits and wizards, and fight with our hearts for the world we love. Stand together, fight hard, and pray that the battle does not go ill. The fate of the world depends on us, united we stand, divided we will fail."


	3. The Night Before

**Here is another chapter. I hope you like it. Yes, we used Remember Me, from the Troy soundtrack. It doesn't belong to us; it just fit really well into this story so we used it. We don't claim to own it. We don't own any of the characters either, and they belong to many different people. Thank you for reading, please R/R.**

The sun was setting over Minas Tirith and Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, walked alone in the beautiful gardens, and could not help but wonder at the skill of Master Gardner Samwise Gamgee, who brought such life to a city of stone.

Yet this was but a passing thought, his mind was drawn to the horizon, to the growing shadow enveloping Osgiliath, a growing shadow, which he feared even the dawn, would not dispel. He began to sing an ancient Elven song, sad, like all the songs of old, and fitting for the dark times ahead.

As he walked, his keen Elven eyes spotted a figure standing at the edge of the wall. Upon approach, he saw the motionless figure to be the young Steward of Gondor. He recognized his noble face, and Legolas saw that in his grey eyes was despair. He walked up beside him, and was about to address him, when the Steward spoke first.

"It reminds me of Numenor," he said to the horizon rather than his companion, "of the lands of Westernesse that foundered, and of the great dark wave climbing over the green lands and above the hills, and coming on, darkness inescapable. I often dream of it. Yet now it appears to manifest before my eyes. "

Faramir then turned to Legolas. "The reason of my waking mind tells me that a great evil will befall and we stand at the end of days."

Legolas, who was greatly moved by this, said, "Do not despair; for despair is only for those who see the end beyond all doubt, we do not. However small, hope still remains."

"It is long since we had any hope," said Faramir. "We had believed that with the defeat of Sauron there would finally be peace, no more wars, battles, bloodshed. But it is like things are in the world. Hopes fail. And here we are, lost in ruin and downfall awaiting the final stroke of doom."

Legolas stared at the encroaching darkness, and even his light elven heart faltered, and felt the pangs of despair, "Yes, so we come to it in the end, the great battle of our time, in which many things shall pass away. And so passes also the days of Gondor that you have known, for good or ill they are ended, and who knows what blessings or terrors tomorrow will bring."

Faramir's face, which had been stern and somber, was suddenly changed, lightened by some hope. "For myself I would see the White Tree in Flower again in the courts of the Kings, and the Silver crown return, and Minas Tirith in peace. Minas Arnor again as of old, full of light, high, and fair, beautiful as a queen among queens. War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who will devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend: the city of the Men of Numenor, and I would have her loved for her memory, her ancientry, her beauty, and her present wisdom. And I would enter into battle; give my life willingly, in order to protect her."

A man of Gondor then entered and said to the steward, "My lord, the army has been gathered, and they have taken positions on the walls and at the gates...yet too few men we have, and the orc army fast approaches. The scouts say they will be here by dawn."

Faramir, though greatly moved by this message, retained his composure. "Yes, we do not have enough to defeat the armies of Melkor, yet we shall meet them in battle nonetheless." He then turned to Legolas and said, "The time has come for us to draw swords together, and fight alongside one another, as brothers."

Legolas smiled and responded, "I am honored to fight with such a man, and for such a place as this. I am proud to defend this city and I am proud to fight alongside men once more."

Aragorn, King of Men, walked the length of his private rooms to the balcony. It was a rather large balcony, with multiple chairs and tables. He put his hands on the railing and looked out at his city and land, taking in the sights and the smells. He loved Minas Tirith, and took pleasure every morning in taking a walk through the roads. He was so deep in his thoughts that he did not realize Arwen as she came up behind him and put one arm around his waist. She tucked herself under one of his strong arms, and looked up at him smiling.

He smiled back and kissed the top of her head. Together they looked out at the city until Arwen whispered, "Don't go tomorrow. Don't fight."

"I have to, the commander cannot send his men into battle without being at the head," Aragorn shook his head. He always believed that he consciously could not ask his men to do something he was not ready to do.

"I have a bad feeling about tomorrow," Arwen, begged him. "Please don't leave me."

Aragorn turned her so that he faced her. She now had her back to the balcony. She tried to put her head against his chest, but with one hand, he lifted her chin and their eyes met, "No matter what happens we will be together in this world and the next."

With a small sob, she left him standing by the balcony. She made her way across the room and into their son's room. Tears were now flowing down her face but she did not wipe them away. She went to the bed of Eldarion, who did not know that his parents were watching him.

Aragorn came in silently after her and now stood behind her. He looked down at his son and titled his head to whisper into Arwen's ear, "I would love to be here with you and Eldarion for eternity. I would love to watch my son grow, watch him chase girls and enjoy life. But I cannot escape war. It is my life; it is my destiny to fight for Gondor and for my country. Whatever evils are fated for me, I must face them, and I can only pray to the Valar to help me through the day."

"I cannot survive without you. Before I married you, I was a ghost. I walked and ate and I wandered the forests... I was just a ghost."

Aragorn looked long into her eyes but finally turned away. He walked out of Eldarion's room with one hand to his forehead. Arwen remained in his room though. She walked to his bed and looked down at the sleeping form of her son. Wiping away a tear, she knelt by the bedside.

"Remember

I will still be here

As long as you hold me

In your memories

Remember

When your dreams have ended

Time can be transcended

Just remember me

I am the one star that keeps burning so brightly

It is the last light to fade into the rising sun

And with you whenever you tell my story

For I am all I've done

Remember

I will still be here

As long as you hold me

In your memories

Remember me

I am that one voice in the cold wind that whispers

And if you listen, you will hear me call across the sky

As long as I still can reach out and touch you

Then I will never die

Remember

I'll never leave you

If you will only

Remember me

When your dreams have ended

Time can be transcended

I live forever

Remember me

Remember 

I'll never leave you

If you will only

Remember me"

"Sleep well my son," Arwen kissed the top of his forehead and left the room.

Eldarion opened one eye and watched his mother depart. He wondered why she sang that old song to him. What was going on?

As Arwen sang to her son, Faramir stood and watched his son, not far from the King's rooms. "Young boys should never be sent to bed... they always wake up a day older." Faramir sighed as he heard Eowyn approach. He put out his arm and she took his hand and moved closer to him. They stood in the doorway of Elboron's room and watched him sleep.

"Every day he looks more and more like you," Eowyn smiled.

"Is that a bad thing?" Faramir asked.

"Indeed not."

They looked at each other, and then back at their son. Faramir smiled, Elboron did look a lot like him.

"When will you begin to train him to act like you?" asked Eowyn.

It took Faramir a minute to realize what she was asking. He knew from their talks that as much as she loved to fight, and be involved in war, she did not want their son involved. One of her dreams was for him never to know war, and never have to wield a sword.

"A few years yet, he is young still," Faramir comforted her.

"He won't be happy with that," She responded. She tightened her grip on him; "Hopefully he will be more like you than your brother."

Faramir shook his head; "He'll be like Boromir. I know it in my heart and from speaking with him, he's anxious to begin."

Eowyn left his protective hold. She wiped away a few tears and turned her back to him.

"It is not all bad. Sometimes people need a warrior, not a leader learned in lore."

"I want him to know peace not war," Eowyn cried.

"This is why we fight now. We have no power over the future. What the future holds will come, and we will have to accept it when it does. His job will be easier than Eldarion's at least."

"A king who fights his own wars... that will be a sight to see," Eowyn turned back to him.

"Some kings fight. Aragorn fights."

"Your father didn't," Eowyn said knowingly.

"I see them fighting together, side by side; they will protect each other, fight for each other, and die for each other. Do not worry my love; they will have us for many years."

"I want to fight, I want to raise my sword in victory..., but I want my son to know none of it. Let him not hear stories of war, of our victories, let him be naïve and innocent."

"Would you really want that for him? Even now, he is dreaming of being a warrior, of wielding great swords, and fighting in the greatest wars. Do not disrupt his dreams by plaguing him with terror of war. One day he will learn reality, and you cannot shield him from it. This is life we have chosen, but in my life time I will do all so that he may never have to fight, like I have spent my whole life doing. I promise you that. I will fight until the end of my days so that he does not have to. Be at peace, my love, do not worry about things you have no control over. Let us sleep now, I fear tomorrow will bring evils that the world has not seen for many years."


	4. Preparing for Battle

Hello! Here is another chapter. Thank you to all those who have read it, and hopefully you have enjoyed it so far. We don't own any of the characters, they belong to Tolkien, Homer, and whoever wrote Gladiator. Hope you like this chapter, please R/R!

Morning came quickly. Faramir stood in front of the mirror slowly dressing, it was early yet, but sleep had not come to him that night. After all the arguments and discussions, it was time. War had come again, and he would defend his people and city to his death if he had to. When he was younger, and had been made Captain of Gondor, he had to pledge his life to the defense of the city. He had not realized then just what his pledge had been or what he would have to sacrifice in order to keep the city and people safe.

He had woken up early that morning to find Eowyn not next to him. He had briefly wondered where she was, but thoughts of the upcoming battle had driven his wondering away. He guessed she was off tending to their son, Elboron.

As though in his thoughts he called for her, she came in dressed for the day. Faramir took one look at her and then smiled, her face was as beautiful as the day he first set eyes on her, and she moved with grace of an elf. As he watched her walk toward him, he noticed a sword hanging by her belt that was around her slim waist. She wore a chain-mail shirt under an old shirt.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Faramir asked, as he covered his bare chest with a white shirt before putting on his own chail-main shirt.

"I am fighting in the battle," Eowyn told him, as though this was obvious. She was now putting her golden hair into a tight bun.

"You are fighting?" Faramir raised an eyebrow at her and stopped dressing.

"I can fight," she said taken aback at his behavior. "I will not be allowed to be locked up while you and all my friends are fighting and risking their lives. I know how to fight, I am no shield maiden, something to be treasured and looked at. I fought in the War of the Ring; I was out there on Pelannor Fields, have you forgotten? It was me fighting, not you."

"I would have been involved; I would fought alongside my men if I could. Pelannor Fields is not the issue though."

"Do you doubt my heart?"

"No, I do not want my love to be hurt. I can still see you lying in the House of the Healing pale and half dead. I want to protect you," Faramir spoke softly.

"Then fight alongside me, and we will have victory together," Eowyn proposed. "And then you can watch over me, and we can fight together protecting our friends and the city which we both love."

"I do not want you in battle and that is that!" Faramir raised his voice.

"I will not stand here and have you order me around!"

"If you want to be a soldier, then you have to take orders!" Faramir raised his voice a little bit. It was rare for the quiet man to yell. "Fine! If you want to fight, I place you in my company! As Captain, I say who fights and who does not! You, Eowyn, Lady of Rohan will most certainty will not be fighting!" With that, he stormed out of the room.

Eowyn fell down on the bed weeping.

Minutes passed but it seemed more like a few hours. Eowyn laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She could not believe that Faramir had spoken to her in such a way. Never before had she seen him so angry and stubborn. He had always understood her love of battle, and he loved her strength and bravery. So why when she finally had the opportunity to prove her courage in battle did he forbid her to go? Was he just flattering her by allowing her to entertain dreams of glory, knowing well she could never achieve them? No, she could not believe that Faramir was like that; he could not be. It was not in his nature to falsely flatter or deceive. Then what was it? She could not figure it out; she was still too angry and upset to reason. So she got up off the bed and went to the mirror and wash basin at the far side of the room. She looked in the mirror and wiped the tears off her face. She did not like to see herself like that, showing so much emotion, so much weakness. He eyes were still red and her cheeks still moist. Once she had hidden every sign of her grief, she walked over to her son's room, which was further down the hall. She quietly opened the door and slipped in. The curtains were drawn and the room was still dark. She fumbled on her way to the curtains, almost stumbling over pile of clothes. She noted that she should tell Elboron to be neater. Yet now was not the time, there were much serious troubles than a young boy's messiness. She could see his face, illuminated by a solitary bar of light seeping in through the area between the curtains. She could see that he was sleeping contently. He looked so much like his father, the same handsome face and gentle, yet stern, demeanor. He would be a great man someday. Yet he was now only a child, and the affairs and wars of men were coming to him too soon. She could see him in all his innocence and happiness and wished that he could remain like that always. She bent over him and kissed his forehead, then moved over to the window and opened the curtains. The room was immediately bathed in yellow light and the reflection off the white stone was almost blinding. He still slept soundly and it was difficult for her to wake him while he looked so peaceful, but she knew what she had to do. She gently shook his shoulder and his eyes gradually opened; his face formed into a smile as he saw his mother. He immediately leaned over to hug her.

"Mother, I had the most wonderful dream! Eldarion and I were brothers and we all lived together in Ithilien and we played games all day."

Eowyn laughed. "Indeed that was a wonderful dream. I hope that someday we shall know such peace and joy. However, now is not the time for play. You must get dressed, no use laying in bed all day. That is not the way to become a great scholar and hero. Come now, out of bed."

The boy grudgingly got out of bed and Eowyn kissed his forehead as she said, "That is my boy, now get dressed. You've nearly missed breakfast sleeping so late. I'll be waiting down the hall for you. I'll take you and Eldarion to your teacher and you can have your breakfast there."

"Mother? Why are all the men running about? Is there something happening? I usually do not have to get up this early, why do I have to today?"

Eowyn laughed, yet it was nervous laughter, and it did not go unnoticed by Elboron. "Well, you're getting older Elboron and as you get older there are more responsibilities. I have heard from your teacher that you have not been putting your full effort into your lessons. In fact, you seem to care little for them, only listening to the stories of the great warriors. Well, your lessons are important and cannot be avoided. Thus, you must go earlier to make up for all your previous lack of effort. I know that things are difficult, and I know that you would rather be back in Ithilien, just as I would. But we are needed here for now, and as long as you are here, you will still do your lessons. Now get dressed, because I know that you are merely questioning me to put off your lessons. Meet me down the hall I am sure Eldarion is already waiting."

As Eowyn left, she felt relief. It was so difficult to pretend to be happy when she knew that a great battle was at hand. She hated lying to her son and felt guilty that she couldn't tell him the truth. Yet she knew he could not be told; he could not understand the great peril they were in. He was young, life was simple and peaceful for him, and she did not want to destroy that. She did not want to expose him to the pain in the world. Not yet.

The people inside Gondor were busy preparing for war that morning. Maximus and his company left the city early to prepare and await the horns that would be the signal for the battle. In the mountain, there was a cave that could hide and hold 500 horses, and there Maximus would charge from. The excited soldier took leave of King Elessar and made his way to prepare himself and the company he was to lead.

King Eomer also departed: the men of Rohan were stationed in Osgiliath, and would charge from there at the same time as Maximus' company. With King Eomer, King Elessar and Gandalf would ride. The elves were already near the gates preparing for their first attack in the battle. Faramir had Gondorian archers inside the city, and up on the walls. It was planned that they would attack not too long after the battle had started.

"And where will we be?" Merry asked, as everyone started to depart.

"Inside the city of course," Gandalf looked down at the frowning hobbit.

"Doing what?" Merry asked, annoyed.

"It would be an honor if you would join my company, Master Brandybuck," Faramir entered. He had heard the beginning of the conversation as he walked past the room. He now bowed slightly to the three hobbits. "And of course Master Took, Master Gamgee. A Captain can never have enough brave warriors on his side."

"It would be our pleasure to stand beside you, Lord Faramir," Merry bowed back to Faramir, glad that one person had not forgotten them. Gandalf raised an eyebrow at Faramir, and then left to prepare for the battle.

Now everyone was in place. It was a little after breakfast time, though no one had even thought of the meal. Before getting in place though, the three hobbits had been seen in the Dining Hall, eating a full breakfast. Faramir looked down at the three hobbits, and though war was in front of them, he could not help but smile, nothing, not even war, got in the way of a hobbit's meal.

Orc horns could be heard even in the cave where Maximus waited. The horns were threatening and a few men were growing uneasy.

"Brothers, one day I shall be home again, harvesting my crops with my family, in peace. Imagine where you will be and it will be so. Today we fight, not for our own pride and glory, but for that dream and for the safety of our families and friends. We must have courage for those we love, and today we shall fight for them. Hold the lines and stay with me! Remember, what we do in life echoes in eternity. Hold the line! Stay with me! Stay with me!" 

The men laughed and cheered. Maximus held up his sword, "Brothers stay with me!"

They raised their swords in response, sure that the young leader would not led them astray.

Aragorn, Gandalf, and Eomer watched the army from their location. Aragorn sat up straighter on his horse, remembering the last war. Gandalf's mind was on those who had been lost, and those who would die fighting for the protection of the city. King Eomer, could not help but remember that this was the place that the title of King had been put on him by his uncle, a man he missed dearly.

"We cannot win this! Look at their army! It will be the death of all of us!"

Aragorn turned his horse around and faced the soldiers, "Brothers of the sword, greatest friends and allies. You have fought with me in many battles, and we have shed our blood together on the field. Today we shall stand and fight, for the protection of our city and the love of our families. Do not let anyone forget how menacing we are, we are lions. Do you know what is out there, on the shore, waiting. Immortality, take it, it's your's!

Paris and Hector stood by Faramir looking out at the field. Paris swayed a little, feeling nauseous at the army before him. He tried hard to stand still, but it wasn't easy. He had never felt so nervous before. He looked around; the three hobbits stood on the other side of Faramir. The tallest one, Merry, stomped his feet a few times looking impatient. The hobbit next to him, clad in Gondorian armor looked bored, and the last one had his eyes closed as though remembering a different time or a person not with him now.

Hector also looked around at all the men. He was glad that today he was not in charge. He had never led more than twenty men into a fight. Recently, he had led small groups of men to battle orcs that had been coming toward the city. He however, could not imagine leading the whole army into battle with so many men to be concerned for.

The orc horns stopped, but a cruel, cold voice took their place, "King of the City, come and meet your doom!"

Merry looked up at Faramir, and gasped Aragorn was not in the city.

Faramir motioned fifteen guards to follow him.

"Faramir!" Merry called.

The Captain of Gondor looked back at the hobbit.

"Let me stand by your side," Merry pleaded.

Faramir looked at his guards, and then back at the determined hobbit, "Come along."

Pippin, without asking, followed Merry and Faramir. The guards quickly formed ranks around their Captain and his two companions. They walked out unafraid and undaunted by the army of orcs.

Hector was not surprised that the hobbits followed his cousin. He knew they belonged at his side, though they were small, they acted like veterans. A few soldiers whispered, and Hector heard the word halfings. Did they not think the hobbits belonged at his side? If he had not seen them at the council he might have thought the same thing, but these hobbits knew what was happening. They knew what they were sacrificing, and they had seen more war than he had ever.

"I am King of Gondor speak!" Faramir commanded.

A large orc stood in front sneering. Merry stared; his hands were as big as his head and Pippin's combined. He held his long, heavy sword in one hand, and wore only a chest of armor. He sneered down at the two hobbits but before he could speak Faramir spoke, "You come uninvited. Go back to your holes and never come here again."

"Look around you, Young King. The Lord Melkor has bred the greatest warriors of the age. You can still save Gondor's king. The Lord Melkor has just one wish, if you grant it, then no more Gondorian soldiers need die. Gondor, must submit to the Lord Melkor and fight for him whenever he calls."

"You want me to look upon your army and tremble?" Faramir scanned the army of orcs, "Well I see them, I see 50,000 orcs brought here to fight for one evil god's greed."

"Careful boy. The Lord Melkor's mercy has limits."

"And I've seen the limits of his mercy. And I tell you now, no son of Gondor will ever submit to an evil god."

"Then every son of Gondor shall die."

Faramir turned on his heel and walked back to the city. Merry and Pippin had to walk quickly to keep up with the Captain of Gondor. As the city gates closed, the orcs pounded their heavy spikes into the ground. The sound was deafening.

"That went well," Pippin muttered to Merry.

Back in the city walls, Faramir turned to Legolas and King Thranduil, who stood with the elves by the city gates. "You don't have to do this."

"The elves have been in the shadows too long. We will fight."

"Good luck then, may the Valar protect you," Faramir went back to his men along with Merry and Pippin.

Faramir looked out from the high city walls at the orc army. The orcs were still pounding their stakes into the ground.

"Archers!" He called. He took out his bow and arrows too. "Hold." He commanded.

They waited, and then Faramir heard it, a horn. Not an orc horn, but a beautiful horn, it was an elvish horn. The elves below were ready. Faramir took a long, deep sigh, and closed his eyes praying for the safety of all those who were protecting the city this day. "So it begins," he whispered to himself. "FIRE!" He commanded his men. The gates opened below. The archers killed a good number of Orcs before the Elves reached them.

The elves led by King Thranduil, Prince Legolas and Gimli son of Golan, charged out of the gates. Faramir motioned for one archer to fire straight into the crowd of orcs, with his arrow lit.

Eomer raised his sword into the air. He looked next to him to see Gandalf and Aragorn, swords out and ready for battle. He kicked his horse lightly and observed his army. "Advance our standards, draw your willing swords, and set upon our foes, the time for battle is at hand. In Eorl's name, courageous friends, be valiant. Aragorn, you lead the army from the left flank, Gandalf from the right. Forth! And fear no darkness! Arise! Arise! Riders of Eomer! Spears shall be shaken! Shields shall be splintered! A sword day! A red day! Ere the sun rises! Ride Now! Ride now! Ride! Ride to ruin and the world's ending! Forth Eorlingas!"

Maximus saw the signal. He turned to his command, "Ride with me now brothers!" He kicked his horse and it started to gallop, "STAY WITH ME!" He yelled charging with all his men behind him.

The horses all charged fast. Maximus called again, "STAY WITH ME!" They continued to charge quickly from the side of the city.

Eomer, Gandalf, and Aragorn charged with the Rohan army yelling and waving their swords. Shadowfax quickly got ahead of the other horses, the speed and swiftness of Shadowfax remained. Gandalf's white robes, along with the white horse shone in the early morning, and the rising sun caught it blinding all enemies who looked toward the White Rider.

"HOLD THE LINE!" Maximus called to his command. They were close now, so close. The orc army now saw them. "HOLD THE LINE!" The orcs formed ranks, but quickly forgot that idea as the two cavalries hit the orc army at once.

"We cannot win this! Look at their army! It will be the death of all of us!"

Faramir watched as the two cavalries charged at the huge orc army. Their plan was working. The elves were still fighting hard and few had fallen to their death. Faramir took out his sword. He turned around and faced his company. "What's he that believes so? No, if we are marked to die, we are to do our country loss; and if to live, the fewer men, the greater share of honor. I pray thee, wish not one man more. I would not lose so great an honor as one man more would share from me, for the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more! Rather proclaim that he, who has no heart to this fight, let him depart. We would not die in that man's company that fears his fellowship to die with us. For we come together now in fellowship and friendship, in this great fight, as brothers. Now, I say if we are marked to die, we shall make it such an end that is worthy of remembrance! We ride now! Now for wrath, now for ruin, and a red dawn! Ride for Gondor! Ride to war!" He lifted his sword high into the air, "Charge with me brothers, charge with me to victory!"

Faramir took the stairs two at a time going down to the city walls. Merry, Pippin and Sam were on his heels, followed by Hector and Paris. The rest of the company followed silently, following their faithful leader into battle. 


	5. The First Battle Part 1

Hello, here is another chapter. Thank you to those who have reviewed our story! We do not own any of the characters, they believe to Tolkien, Homer, whoever wrote Gladiator, everyone but us. Please R/R, hope you enjoy this chapter!

---

Everyone was now in the battle. On the field, Legolas worked with Gimli. Legolas used both his bow and arrows, and his white knives to kill the orcs. Four orcs came at Legolas at once and with one step, forward Legolas took out his white knives, and slashed one across the face. The second orc fell as Legolas stabbed the knife he held in his left hand into the orc's neck. He beheaded the third orc quickly, using both knives, and then attacked the forth orc, quickly stabbing him.

Gimli was using his double sided ax against the orcs who loomed over him. He slashed and hacked his way through the crowd of orcs. The stout dwarf did not tire as he killed every Orc that came in his path. Gimli looked up for a second, and a smile formed on his face as he saw his enemy in front of him. He gripped his ax tighter in his hands but before he could swing his ax, the orc took his sword and threw Gimli to the ground. The sword hit Gimli's chain mail shirt, not injuring him, though he knew he was in danger. The orc laughed coldly and menacingly, preparing to the kill the dwarf. Gimli tried to get up to protect himself, but one heavy foot landed on his chest, pinning him to the ground.

Gimli prayed that Legolas would see him... that anyone would see him. Where was his friend when he needed him? Had they not always helped each other in need?

The orc lifted his sword high above his head and brought it down hard. Gimli continued to struggle and fight, trying to escape the orc, but to no avail. The orc's sword was still coming down when, out of nowhere, an arrow hit the shoulder of the orc who stumbled back.

"Leave him," Gimli jumped to his feet and watched Thranduil, King of Mirkwood standing there with a long sword in his hand. He had seen Gimli, friend of his son, in need, and so for his son he went to protect him. He had no need of dwarves, but he had seen Gimli with his son and knew there was a bond of friendship there that could not be broken.

The orc attacked the king and Gimli watched as they battled. They fought swiftly, their swords clashing and each trying to catch the other off their guard. They took no notice of anyone else, as their swords clashed again, caught in a dead tie.

Legolas stood straight up after taking his white knives out of a fallen orc. He looked around and observed the pile of fallen orcs around him. He looked to find Gimli and his father. He was surprised to see his father shooting an orc that had Gimli trapped underneath him. He ran forward to help both father and friend. There were many orcs between them though, and Legolas had to fight his way through.

If Legolas had been counting the dead, he would have passed Gimli's record just trying to reach the dwarf. There were hundreds between them, but nothing could stand between him and helping his father. He had just quickly beheaded another orc when he found his path opened.

The orc charged toward Thranduil, his sword swinging furiously. Thranduil was able to deflect it but stumbled back from the force. In one quick moment, the orc swung his sword and all anyone heard was Legolas' yell. Thranduil sank down without a sound, his eyes on his wound, unable to believe it. It was unreal, how could he die here? His eyes lifted to see Gimli, son of Gloin, looking at him. They stared at each other.

"Ada!" Legolas reached the king's side.

"Nin ion. You will be king in my place... lead your people to victory."

"No... I'm going to save you."

"You have... in so many ways. I am proud of you, King Legolas."

King Thranduil's eyes closed, and passed on the throne to his son and heir. Legolas looked up at Gimli who was still standing still as a statue. Picking up his father's sword, Legolas charged at the orc who had killed his father. Legolas stabbed him in the chest with a yell of "DEATH! Death to all foes! Elves and men gather to me! Charge now, charge now to death!"

Legolas, King of Mirkwood, with Gimli charged together into a horde of orcs leaving none alive. Legolas' fury was that which no man had ever seen before, the usually quiet elf killed now, believing every orc to be the one that had killed his father.

Merry and Pippin found themselves again door wardens. They positioned themselves at the entrance of the gate and they killed every orc that tried to get past them. Merry quickly got back into the rhythm of fighting. Of the three hobbits, he was the hobbit who had participated the most in war.

Pippin stood next to his cousin, protecting the city. Orcs believing them to be an easy kill would come over expecting to kill them with one strike. The bodies of orcs around them proved to other fighters that they were not as weak as they seemed to be. They were quick to avoid their enemy's swords and struck orcs in the legs and stomachs.

Merry had drifted from the other two hobbits as he fought. For the orc's attack to be successful they had to get through the gate, so more orcs were attacking the three small hobbits.

Merry looked to see Pippin being attacked by more than one orc. They were closing in on the Guard of the Citadel.

"SHIRE!" Merry yelled, and ran to his cousin's aid. He jumped at the orc, stabbing him in the back with his sword. Merry had been running, and he let go of his sword and fell heavily to the ground, and then rolled to avoid the falling orc. He stood up quickly, and retrieved his sword. He looked to make sure Pippin was alright, and though he had not stopped fighting, his young cousin was fine. Merry continued to fight, there were too many orcs to talk to his two friends.

Sam stood behind the two warrior hobbits. He had not killed as many orcs as Pippin and Merry. He was terrified as the orcs attacked; though he tried not to show it. The last time he had fought he had a purpose... Frodo. He was always protecting his master. He had wounded Shelob to get back Frodo, and the orcs in Cirith Ungol he had killed to get to Frodo. He always had that one purpose.

What was he fighting for now? The last time he had felt too stunned, too caught up in the moment to worry about who he was fighting. But now he saw, and he was scared. Who was he fighting for this time?

An image came into his mind, he knew at once it was Bag End. He could see the neat study, which when Bilbo lived there was stacked high of papers, maps and descriptions of his travels. The study was clean now, the windows opened, and a certain peace was in the air. The windows were open, and sitting in the tall chair, staring at the warm flames of the fireplace was his master. He knew then, that no matter where life had taken him, that everything he did and fought for was for Frodo and his home.

"FRODO!" He yelled, and advanced forward stabbing an orc, killing it instantly. He found his courage and knew his heart would guide him through the fight and on to victory.

Faramir fought not far from the hobbits and the elves. He and his men fought bravely, killing one orc after another. Faramir and his men were used to fighting and running in Ithilien. Though better at archery, Faramir had trained his men well and it showed now in the fight. Faramir, though a Captain, was a man of his people and would never dream of staying back and not participating in the fight. He was a man of lore though, and would rather study the history of Gondor than fight on its plains. However, he had friends and men to protect, and he would protect them to his death. He beheaded orcs and killed them without a second thought. He was an example of how his men should be fighting, and he fought without tiring, not thinking of his own health or safety.

Gandalf fought with both staff and sword, Glamring. He and sword had fought many battles together. When he thought everything was over, and peace had come, he had been wrong. More men would have to die in the name of peace. However, for now he could not think of that, he had a duty to do, and friends to protect. He stayed near the two Kings, to help protect them, and especially near King Elessar, whom he was mentor and protector of.

"Legolas!" Faramir yelled to the elf. He had been fighting an orc when the ground below his feet had begun to shake. There were cries from the men, and the pounding did not stop, it just got louder. Faramir closed his eyes for a moment, his thoughts going back to Boromir. His brother would know exactly how to deal with this, but Faramir was not as strong as he was. He took a deep breathe, "Give me strength brother." He opened his eyes, knowing what lay ahead of them, Faramir turned to see eight large oliphaunts marching menacingly toward Minas Tirith.

Faramir looked around him, the men were looking up at the oliphaunts, and fear flooded their eyes. They turned back to the white city and began to retreat into its strong walls.

"No retreat! No retreat!" Faramir yelled but no one heard him. The pounding and roaring of the oliphaunts swallowed up his voice

Faramir saw to his right a horse retreating riderless back to the city. He ran over, grabbed the reins and in one swift motion, he mounted the horse. He took his horn from his belt, the horn that Eowyn had given him after they had married. It was inscribed with all different runes from all the languages of Middle Earth symbolizing the world was one. Faramir blew into the horn, and the loud, but sweet, sounding horn could be heard over the big beasts, and the men stopped. They could not help but turn and see who was blowing the horn.

"So much death. What can men do against such reckless hate?" Anborn asked staring at the charging oliphaunts.

"Ride out with me. Ride out and meet them," Faramir gripped his sword tightly.

"For death and glory?" Anborn asked seeing the other men's reactions.

"For Gondor. For our people," Faramir told him seriously. He turned to his men, "Sound the charge, rally to me. Rally to me! Men of Gondor, this day is called the feast of Elendil. He that shall live this day, and come home safe, will remember what deeds were done this day. Then shall our names be in their cups freshly remembered. This story shall the good man teach his son. And Elendil, Elendil shall never go by, from this day until the ending of the world, but we in it shall be remembered. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. Fore he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother; and all shall think themselves accursed they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap while any speaks that fought with us upon this day. For our families, our friends, and our city, this day we fight! Charge! Charge!

Legolas, his hope renewed, also jumped on a horse that had been owned by a fallen rider. He turned the horse around and charged with the men of Rohan and Gondor. He went up next to Faramir and together they led the men to the oliphaunts, and to some their doom.

--

"Now onto today's lesson young masters," their tutor placed their books in front of them. "We will be studying Gondolin."

"What's happening outside the walls?" Elboron interrupted their tutor.

"Never you mind," he responded quickly. Eldarion raised an eyebrow and glanced at his friend.

"I thought there was peace, why are they fighting again?" Eldarion pressed for information.

"Please young Masters, you are both behind in your studies so let us work," their tutor tapped their books. "Now to Gondolin which was a secret land in the First Age. Its location was unknown to all who lived there."  
  
Elboron fidgeted in his seat. They could hear noises down below. He exchanged another look with Eldarion. Their parents had both been nervous before leaving them with their tutor, and their fathers had both said goodbye and given them big hugs. They were dressed in suits of armor, and Eldarion noticed that Andruil was no longer in the throne room, but near his father's hip. He had never seen his father carrying around that sword.

"Gondolin was destroyed by the forces of Morgoth-"

"Will we win?" Elboron interrupted again.

"Win what?" Their tutor sighed.

"The fight, the one that is outside the walls!" Eldarion asked.

"We aren't dumb, we know something is happening," said Elboron.

"Young Masters it is not my concern or yours to what is happening outside, if anything is," He said sharply.

"But our fathers are fighting out there!"

"What if one of them dies?" Eldarion asked.

"You are both worrying for no reason. Nothing is happening," their tutor said again. "Now for the last time, or I will report your behavior to your fathers, pay attention!"

Eldarion sighed, and looked at Elboron. Everyone treated them like five year olds, and it wasn't fair. They barely listened as their tutor went on about Gondolin and the fall of the secret land. Eldarion and Elboron tried to pay attention, but noises from below interrupted their concentration.

Eldarion had just closed his eyes when everyone in the city heard a great thundering noise. It shook the table where they sat at, and their chairs. Eldarion and Elboron could hear the glass that covered lamps shaking.

"What is that?" Eldarion asked.

"Something is happening!" Elboron got up.

"Master Elboron, I beg not to leave," their tutor stood.

"Our fathers, everyone, they are in trouble!"

"Come sit down, Master Elboron," the tutor sat back down. "I see my lesson of Gondolin is not going to distract you today. How about I tell you a few stories, I knew your father, Master Elboron, when he was your age."

"Really?"

"I was your father's tutor, I was young at the time, and Master Faramir was my charge. He was an easy student, and the experienced tutors were given to Master Boromir, for no one could make him sit for his lessons."

"My father liked to study?" Elboron asked in disgust.

"Yes, Master Elboron. I see much of your uncle in you," their tutor smiled. "But you Master Eldarion, now your father I never knew for he did not grow up in Minas Tirith. He grew up in Rivendell, under the care of Lord Elrond, an elven warrior. I remember the day he came into the city. After the Battle of Pelannor Fields, a man came into the city and healed the Lord Faramir, Lady Eowyn, and the hobbit Meriodic. He asked for "kingsfoil" it is called in the common tongue, and it is a weed! A weed being used to heal the new Steward! It was unheard of, but the Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn recovered to the amazement of all. Then, the rumors started of a King before the Dark Tower fell, but no one ever saw him. It is known now that the one who healed Lord Faramir was the king, but he never said anything. He kept to his disguise and raggy clothes. After the Dark Lord fell though, he came riding in, in honor and glory with Gandalf the White, three hobbits, an elf and a dwarf. They were all part of what was called, a fellowship, whose job it was to destroy the ring. Then, not long after your father became king; a host of elves came to the city, and one of the most magnificent weddings I have ever witnessed. Lady Arwen and Lord Aragorn married; everyone could see they had waited for this day for years."

"And they are good fighters?"

"Some of the best! Lord Faramir was never as good as his brother, but he had the respect of all men, and studied the enemies' weakness. His heart is not in battle, but in books, but for his men, Lord Faramir would do anything. Such a fine man he is, so fair and just, never doing anything without a reason. King Elessar is the same way, soft spoken, but when he fights, he does so for the protection of people. He was a Ranger, people say, and Rangers protect all people without expecting praise or thanks. The world is lucky to have two such fine men."

Eldarion and Elboron smiled and exchanged glances. They knew their fathers were good and respected, but their tutor praised them like they had never heard before. Events during the War of the Ring were not mentioned to them, both their parents believed them to be too young to understand the events that happened before they were born. They knew a great battle had taken place, and their fathers were responsible for the outcome.

"I can't wait until tonight to see him," Eldarion smiled more broadly. "He never told me all of this!"

"Me neither!" Elboron fidgeted in his seat. "Tell us more! Please!"

Their tutor smiled; glad to see the two boys distracted from the events at the city gates. He thought for a moment and said, "Have you ever heard of Isenguard?"

Elboron and Eldarion leaned forward, "No." They said together.

"Well then, I shall tell you about the great fortress of the evil Sauraman." 


	6. The First Battle Part 2

**Hello, here is the next chapter of our story. Thanks for reading, and I hope you are enjoying it. We don't own any of the characters, they belong to Tolkien, Homer, whoever wrote Gladiator. Please R/R.**

----

Faramir and Legolas separated at the oliphaunts. Legolas rode alongside one of the beasts. The oliphaunt did not see him really, and just as Legolas was near the back of the oliphaunt, he jumped. He grabbed hold of the hanging rope. Legolas swung onto the back of the oliphaunt and took out his bow and arrows. Quickly and swiftly, Legolas started to kill the mumaks, who all turned their arrows toward the elf, but Legolas killed three of them before they shot once.

Once they were dead, Legolas went up to the head of the oliphaunt, took out three arrows, and he shot the oliphaunt quickly. Looking down he saw his horse nearby. He yelled to the horse in Elvish and jumped from the oliphaunt as it tumbled to the ground.

He landed on his horse, and patted it, "Hannon le."

Faramir after Legolas jumped on the oliphaunt moved on. He avoided the large feet of the oliphaunt as he took out his two large swords. He skillfully slashed the legs of the big beast as he rode under it. He emerged from under the oliphaunt as Legolas appeared back on his horse. Faramir raised an eyebrow at the elf.

"What?" Legolas asked without a scratch of any sweat on him.

"Do you always have to out do everyone's performance?"

The elf smiled, "Only men's."

"Let us draw swords together," Faramir lifted the sword in his right hand. "Let us send these foul beasts deep into the ground!"

Eomer saw the cavalry off to challenge the oliphaunts. He charged off determined not be left behind. He had a spear strapped to his horse, and he took it out now. He gripped it tightly and rode up to one of the oliphaunts. Eomer threw the spear hitting the mumak right in the chest. He toppled off his seat, leaving the oliphaunt without a driver. The oliphaunt turned to its left, and slowly hit the beast next to it. Both oliphaunts hit the ground with a thundering sound.

Legolas and Faramir now faced another oliphaunt. Again, Legolas grabbed the hanging rope and taking out his white knife, he cut the rope. He let go and fell back onto his horse. The carriage fell to the ground and Faramir and Legolas rode over to it making sure all the men were dead. They then raced after the oliphaunt who had kept on going. Using their bow and arrows, they took down the oliphaunt.

While the three men worked on killing the oliphaunts, the other soldiers shot the oliphaunts and the mumaks being carried with their bows and arrows.

The battle was ending; another fight was at a close. Gandalf would have breathed a sigh of relief if he had not felt a pain inside him, a fear of doubt and dread in his heart.

----

Paris was in a daze as he fought on the battlefield. He had read many tales of war and even heard them firsthand from his brother, yet now when he was on the field, in the midst of combat, he understood even less about war. It was not noble and romantic as he had once believed. The great stories immortalized the warrior and his bravery, yet here Paris saw neither, and was faced with mortality in all its most brutal forms. He was fighting while covered in blood, some his own and some his enemies.

He was numb, and both his arms hurt as he once again picked his sword up over his head and drove it into an orc that he had been fighting. He looked down at himself, at the cuts on his arms, at the slice on his leg that at first had hurt painfully, but now was a dull numb pain. His helmet that he had worn at the beginning was now lost, and his uniform which had been clean when he put it on was now a mixture of dirt and blood.

He could see the bodies of his fellow soldiers and witnessed them being hewn and slain before his very eyes. And there he was, helpless to save them. No, he thought, war is not noble.

Even with his inexperience in war, Paris found that he was in fact a skilled fighter. He was able to kill many orcs with ease and grace. He saw an orc battling with another soldier, and Paris raced over, seeing the outcome of the fight. With a yell, he took off the orc's hand stopping him from delivering the deathblow to the soldier under him. Without another thought, Paris drove his sword into the orc and helped the soldier up. Without a word, they departed and continued to fight.

Suddenly Paris was confronted with a large, rather grotesque looking, orc who wielded a large sword. However, Paris saw himself as a skilled fighter and felt that there was no orc, which he could not face. He started to fight the orc and soon found that the orc was much stronger than he was. He blocked a strike from the orc with his sword but the orc was able to trip him and he fell to the ground. Paris knew that this was the end, the orc lifted up his sword and was about to strike Paris when suddenly a figure appeared out of nowhere and blocked the blow. Paris saw that it was the brave Patroclus. Patroclus battled the orc and it appeared that Patroclus would indeed defeat the creature. Patroclus was able to wound him in the shoulder, which greatly hindered the orc's ability to wield his sword, giving Patroclus a distinct advantage. Paris felt even more helpless watching the battle between the orc and Patroclus. He wished that there was something he could do but he saw no way to help him. As Patroclus fought the orc Paris suddenly saw the orc run towards him and was about to strike. Patroclus ran in front of Paris and tried to block the blow with his sword. He managed to stab the orc in the chest and the lifeless body fell to the ground, but it was too late. After Patroclus stabbed the orc he was slashed across the chest by the orc sword, and he fell to the ground covered in blood. Paris ran over to him and cradled his head in his arms. Paris had known Patroclus only a little, and from what he had seen and heard from Faramir, he was a most noble and loyal man. He saw Patroclus struggle in pain for a moment. Then he was still.

Paris gently closed the eyes of Patroclus and kissed his forehead. Paris seethed in anger and despair. He should not have died, Paris thought, it should have been me. Paris looked at the corpse of the noble man one last time before charging back out into battle. He no longer cared about his own life. He had seen the most noble men die and now he felt that he must fight not only for himself, but also for the brave Patroclus, who gave his life in order to protect his brother.

----

The orcs around King Elessar and Gandalf started to run. Gandalf straightened up; orcs running away was never a good sign. He looked around, wondering what was coming. Gandalf felt warm, like a heat wave was coming. He leaned heavily on his staff; he knew what was coming. How could they be here? But he knew that they were the creation of Melkor. Melkor, the god, he knew had thought they could be beaten, and he had sent the fiery creatures to finish off all the men of Gondor, Rohan and the Elves. Gandalf hoped he had the energy to survive.

Aragorn looked up and stared into the eyes of the Balrog. Men were running back into the city; scared to see a monster so evil that it had not even entered their darkest nightmares. He gripped his sword, the Sword that was Broken, Andruil, tight in his hand and walked to the front of the Balrog that seemed to be waiting for him, I will make this trial, he thought, monstrous though it is, even if it is my doom to die. I will not fail my country, my people, and it is for them that I fight this vile beast.

The Balrog's whip came down fast and unexpectedly and Aragorn had to move quickly to avoid its burning end. Aragorn brought his sword up above his head as the Balrog's whip came at him again. The sword challenged the Balrog, and for a moment, the Balrog was vulnerable to Aragorn's strike. Without thinking, he stabbed the Balrog with all its might. The Balrog howled in pain, and brought its whip down quickly and without unnerving speed. Aragorn did not see it until the last second, and made to move, but the long whip caught him around the middle. The king was lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall of Minas Tirith.

Faramir saw Aragorn collapse by the wall of Minas Tirith, and he ran over to him in desperation. As he came upon his king trying to lift himself off the ground, but to avail, and his eyes were glazed.

"Aragorn!" Faramir whispered to him, "Aragorn, my king."

He saw Aragorn lift his head a little, and Faramir saw the pain in his eyes. Yet even worse than that, he saw the loss of hope, and the acceptance of the inevitable.

Aragorn spoke, "Faramir... Faramir... my body is broken, it is over. I have led my men to war and not to victory... It is you, Faramir, who must lead our people to victory; it is you who must unite them."

"No, you will not die, and I desire not such power... do not lose hope!"

"I have only lost hope for myself, all my hope now rests in you, and all the people of Middle Earth, and I have faith that you will succeed... and you shall."

"I would have followed you to the end. My Captain, my king... you saved me once, with your healing hands. I only wish I had the skill to repay you, you that gave so much and saved so many..."

"Faramir, my eyes darken... where is Arwen and the light of the Evenstar? Where is she? I wish I could have seen her... one last time, for it will be long before she meets me in the lands beyond... before I can see her face... Arwen." At that, his breathing stopped, and he was still. Faramir whispered a prayer as he bent and kissed his brow. After all the suffering and sacrifice, Faramir thought, this was Aragorn's reward, death. Faramir left the body of his king, but did not enter the mindless chaos of the battle but determinably raced after the vile, fiery beast.

As he came upon the creature, he shouted, "Turn, hellhound, turn, for the sake of Gondor, and the memory of our fallen king I shall face you. And I willingly face my death to avenge so great a man!"

The Balrog responded with a crack of his whip, which Faramir agilely avoided. This continued until Faramir began to wonder how he could defeat such a creature. Then as the Balrog cracked his whip, Faramir ducked under and pierced the stomach of the creature. However, the Balrog fought as fiercely as before, despite the wound, and Faramir waited for his chance to strike again. As the whip cracked again, he again tried to stab the vile beast but was pierced in the shoulder by his sword of fire. He fell to the ground, expecting to see the fire return, to finish and consume him. He thought of Eowyn, and hated how they parted on such terms, hated knowing that her last memory of him would not be pleasant as their love had been.

----

As Eowyn watched the battle from the safety of the gardens of Minas Tirith, she was reminded of a time long ago when she had been forbidden to fight and forced to endure the long hours of waiting. Waiting, she thought, what glory was there in that? To watch the home until the men returned, or if the battle went ill, to burn in the house when the men no longer have need of it. To be trapped. Caged. At least this time she could see the battle down below, which was both a blessing and a curse. She knew that her husband, her family, and her friends were somewhere out there. Whether they were safe, or even alive, she did not know. She shivered at that thought and wrapped her light blue cloak tightly around her. No, she thought, they are alive. Yes, yes they are alive.

Then, as she looked down, she saw it. She had only heard of it in legends because they were all believed to have perished from the world or were trapped in the darkness of distant caverns. Yet there it was, a Balrog of Morgoth, a demon of the ancient world. And at that moment, even in the gardens high above, she did not feel safe. She watched in terror as the demon felled many men, seemingly without effort. She wished that she could see closer, to see where her husband was. She wished she knew if he was safe. She now forgave him for everything that happened because she understood why he did not let her go. She now would give anything to have Faramir beside her now, safe. Yet she knew that that was selfish, Gondor needed him in this great battle, and much must be risked in war. She only wanted her husband to be safe, to return to her.

----

And suddenly Faramir saw a white light, and he thought; 'now this was the end'. Yet it was not the end, he saw that the white light emanated from something, rather someone. Mithrandir, who was both father and mentor to him. He could see Mithrandir battle the great beast with the skill and grace of a wizard, and after the encounter, he defeated his enemy and smote his ruin upon the battlefield. Mithrandir knelt beside his pupil, his son.

"I failed, Aragorn is dead, and I tried to avenge him yet I failed... I never thought it would end this way."

"End?" Gandalf said. "The journey doesn't end here, death is but another journey, one that we all must take, the grey rain of this curtain rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it white shores and a sweet sunrise."

"Well that isn't so bad..."

"No, no, it isn't, but it is not your time to die, you have much left to do and become. You will be needed here for things other than war. Your shoulder was only pierced, and though the pain is great and you feel unconsciousness creeping, it is a but a wound, which can be healed through Elvish medicine. Come now, the battle is ending, Shadowfax shall bear us into the walls, and to the House of the Healing."

Though the pain was great, both in his shoulder and in his heart, he felt safe under Mithrandir's care and was glad to go to the houses, where he had many pleasant memories.

----

Eowyn could see the Balrog fell one man after another, and suddenly she saw a flash of brilliant white light as the White Rider battled the Balrog. After a long encounter the white rider prevailed and she saw him ride back to the city on Shadowfax, bearing the body of a wounded soldier. She ran as fast as she could down each level, she did not know whose body Gandalf bore, and that was the thing that frightened her. Soon she saw him, and her heart fell. Gandalf's face was serious, and he was bearing the body of Faramir, Steward of Gondor, Prince of Ithilien, Husband of Eowyn. Her whole world was spinning, and it was Gandalf who had dismounted his horse and put his hand on her shoulder who brought her back.

"Eowyn, he was wounded by the Balrog; his condition is not as serious as it looks. But he needs healing quickly. He must be brought to the Houses of Healing immediately, but the battle goes on and there are still many to fight. I am needed there. Take Shadowfax, he is swift and will bear you well. You shall have much praise for this great deed."

"No longer do I wish for praise, I only wish for the return of my husband. Look at his face, so pale..."

"He will survive, but there are others who may not. My place is at the gate, yours is with your husband. Ride now, Shadowfax will show you the meaning of haste!"

Gandalf watched as Eowyn rode off. His gaze still lingered at the place after she left. He knew that Faramir needed healing on the threshold of death, and the one whose hand had brought him back before was now gone. He did not know what was to happen. He had seen the greatest men of their time fall, and he could see machinations and chaos following them disquietly to their graves. Yet now was not the time to despair. There were still many men, noble and great, who were still fighting. And with that thought, Gandalf went back into the battle and fought with a new intensity and ferocity. 

The battle raged on without three of Middle Earth's greatest heroes. Legolas and Gimli continued to fight side by side killing the orcs and making sure that those wounded did not live.

Maximus stopped fighting. He looked around, observing the battle. He raised his long, heavy sword into the air and called out for all to hear, "Victory! We have victory!"

Eomer took his sword out of a fallen orc. He straightened up, sweat poured down his face. He heard Maximus' yell of 'Victory'. He sighed deeply, looking at his men, few deaths for Rohan. He was glad; he had seen too much death in his short life.

Merry, Pippin and Sam were by the city gates. The excitement of the battle was still flowing through Merry's veins. His sword was blood stained, and his armor was heavy on his weary body, but his heart was light. They were alive again, and they had won.

A group of elves were walking by, and in the lead were Legolas and Gimli. Merry had seen the elf sad once, after they thought Gandalf had died. The elves were carrying the king, Merry observed. The three small hobbits backed out of the way, and bowed their heads to the valiant, yet fallen king. Merry closed his eyes; his eyes had seen too much war and darkness. Would it ever end?

They continued to stand there even after the procession of elves had passed. Merry now looked up trying to find hope in the world. He looked up at the sky and at the lands beyond, but found nothing. It was then that he noticed a group of men, lead by Gandalf and Eomer, making their way to the city. Merry wondered who they were carrying, and why was the King of Gondor not also leading them? Merry looked at Gandalf's face and was surprised to see a tear in his eye.

"No." Merry whispered. He shook his head, "No!"

They came closer now. Merry stood on his toes, he needed to see, and he needed to know. He saw a scarlet cloak, a tall sword, and as the head of the fallen soldier passed, he saw a crown. "ARAGORN!"

Merry fell to his knees, how could the king die? Who could conquer such a stout and brave man?Gandalf turned to look at him, their eyes meant, what evils lay on the city this day?

Merry put his head in his hands weeping openly. How could it come to this?


	7. Mourning

**Hey, here is another chapter. Thank everyone for reading. We, the authors do not own Lord of the Rings, Troy, and Gladiator. We are just fans. Thank you, please R/R. **

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Faramir awoke the morning after the battle; he opened his eyes but could only see blurs of shapes. He did not understand where he was, all he knew what that he was comfortable and lying on soft pillows. The last thing he remembered was being on the battlefield, seeing Mithrandir and a flash of white light. Then it was all engulfed in a fire that descended into blackness. Yet he was not dead, he rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. He blinked and began to adjust his eyes to sunshine streaming into the room. He sat up slowly and saw Gandalf sitting in a chair beside him, calmly reading a book. And he could see the sadness in the old man's eyes.

"What happened Mithrandir, I cannot remember; it feels like it was all a dream. I

remember being on the battlefield, there was the Balrog, and you saved me. And

Aragorn! Aragorn fell! But no that cannot be, it must have been a dreadful vision because

how could someone so great be taken from the world? "

Gandalf only stared back at him and Faramir knew that he had not dreamt; he

knew that it was true. They both sat there in silence when Faramir noticed something

move out of the corner of his eye. He saw that there was another chair at the far side of

the room, and on it was a mass of golden hair and beneath it was a sleeping woman.

Gandalf saw his eyes move to her and he said, "She was the one who rode you

here. She refused to leave you for even a moment, and she sat by your bed the entire

night to see if you would wake. It took a great deal of persuading in order to get her to

even close her eyes for a moment. Though when she did she fell into a sound sleep. She

loves you very much you know."

As if knowing that she was being discussed Eowyn stretched and yawned and

opened her eyes. She saw Faramir looking back at her and she jumped up and ran over to

the bed to embrace him. "Faramir, you're awake! I was so worried about you!" she said

as she kissed his forehead.

"I m fine, no need to worry I'm fine..."

"Are you sure, you were so dreadfully hurt? Do you need anything, do you feel alright?"

"No, I am fine..."

"No you're not, please tell me. Faramir..."

"Well, I am fine that is true, but others are not. Aragorn is dead, along with many

of my men, and the bravest of Middle Earth. So much death. .."

Gandalf got up and motioned to Eowyn to leave, she did so knowing that Faramir

was indeed healed in body but the loss of so many would take longer to heal. Gandalf

walked over to Faramir and said, "Faramir, indeed we have lost much, I have lost one

who was a great friend to me, and a great hero. There will be time to mourn Aragorn, and

indeed such a great man shall be mourned and praised for many years, yet now is not the

time. War is still upon us, and we must quell the chaos which shall result from such a

loss. Yet that is for later still, now is a time for rest and healing. I shall leave you now to

gain your strength for the trials to come. "

And with that Gandalf left the room and shut the door firmly behind him. He stood outside the door for a long time, and simply lost himself in thought. He knew that Faramir would have asked him many questions, asked him for guidance. Yet Gandalf knew he was not prepared to answer those questions, since he had not answered them for himself. He knew that he would be looked to for wisdom and guidance, yet now he could provide none. He left the Houses and went back to his room, where he stood on the balcony smoking a pipe, losing himself in thought.

After Faramir heard Gandalf's steps getting softer and softer, he got out of bed and began to dress himself, he could not simply lay there, and he needed to walk, to think. He left his room and quietly shut the door, making sure there was no one to see him leave. He went first to the gardens, a place where he had happy memories. Yet he could not resurrect those feelings, now he only felt lost and sad.

---

All the greatest of Middle-Earth were gathered in the throne room where the pale light of dawn illuminated the now empty throne. This only served as another painful reminder of the great loss of their noble king. Several feet before the throne was the king. He was adorned in his finest garb, clutching Andruil at his chest. His casket was simple, the only decoration being the tree of Gondor carved onto the lid, to match his armor and his crown. Emerging from the crowd were those who remained of the Fellowship. Each approached the casket bearing some remembrance of their time spent together.

Sam went first and placed in the casket a beautiful flower. "Strider, I hope that wherever you may be, you may walk in the gardens and enjoy the sweet smell of flowers. Goodbye old friend."

Pippin then followed bearing an apple, "May you always find time for second breakfast, my dear friend."

Merry slowly approached the casket bearing Anafalas, King's Foil; "You once had healed me, now I pray that you shall be healed of your woes and sufferings and find peace."

Gimli was next, and he brought with him a crystal with a single golden hair trapped inside, "The beautiful Galadriel once gave me a gift, three hairs from her golden head. I now share that gift with you laddie so that you may remember her beauty for eternity."

Legolas approached with a single arrow in hand, "You and I fought together as brothers, and now you have my arrow so that you shall always remember those who would willingly die for you, as you have done for us."

Gandalf was the last to give his gift, "My dear Aragorn, you have been my dearest friend throughout the years, and there is no gift I could give that could match what you have given me. Yet he placed in the casket an ancient book whose cover was dusty and worn. The words written on the front part were partially covered, yet Merry could see plainly two words, Luthien Tinuviel.

Gandalf and Legolas remained by the casket as the other Fellowship members returned to the crowd. Out of the crowd two men, Faramir Steward of Gondor, and Eomer King of Rohan, approached the casket and stood beside Gandalf. They stood looking at the casket in silence, deep in their thoughts about the friend and king that they loved.

His young eyes were constantly moved around the room, glancing at everyone. He knew what was going on, he understood why they were all gathered here, but it did not make it any easier. He stood in front of his mother who had her hands placed firmly on his shoulders. He had not heard a word out of her for two days, two of the longest days of his young life. He watched men, the dwarf, elves, and Gandalf the Wizard pay their last respects to his beloved father, the King. Everyone spoke so highly of him, and everyone had tears on their faces. He looked up into his mother's face and noticed that she was not crying. Her face was blank but her eyes looked straight ahead. Her eyes, he stared at what of them he could see, to him looked like she was in another world, envisioning things that no one else could see.

He looked to his right where Elboron stood between his parents. He gave him a look as Faramir stepped forward and approached the casket of Aragorn. Eldarion scanned the crowd again; the whole city was gathered to mourn their king. King... the man who was dead, the man who would never come back. Eldarion knew that one day he would be king, at that time he would sit on the throne and not on his father's knee. Would he have to do that now? Was he expected to take the place of his father? No one had mentioned anything to him, but his father had always said that when a king died, their son would become king. A sick feeling settled in his stomach, he did not want his father's position. He did not want to be king... not yet, now. How could he do that? How could he take the place of the people's beloved king?

Looking around he noticed some people were now looking at him. They were watching his every move, eyeing his every action. He desired to get away, to run away, and to hide, but his mother's hands still gripped his shoulders. What did those people want? Why were they looking at him?

He looked at the ground and did not look up again. He did not desire to see the eyes of his people.

Gandalf turned to the people gathered and with tears in his eyes spoke, "Here is Aragorn son of Arathorn, Chieftan of the Dunedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, bearer of the Star of the North, wielder of the Sword Reforged, victorious warrior, gentle healer, the Elfstone, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur's son, Elendil's son of Numenor, and the greatest of the kings of Gondor. He continually sacrificed himself to protect his people and those he loved. Now he has made the ultimate sacrifice, giving his life for the protection of his city. He could easily have chosen to hide in his high towers while his men gave their lives, but instead he chose to fight, and die, alongside them. He was the greatest of our time and his sacrifice shall never be forgotten nor shall his great deeds in life. Let us now bear his body to the Citadel and there in the Tombs shall he be given a Kingly farewell. There he shall join his ancestors in whose mighty company he will not feel ashamed."

Then the four, Gandalf, Faramir, Legolas, and Eomer lifted the lid and placed it on the casket. In unison, they lifted the entire casket and the crowd before them parted and they began the procession.

The casket led the procession and all the people of the city came out to follow behind. Immediately behind the casket was Pippin whose song and sweet voice ensured that no eye was tearless.

Out of doubt, out of dark, to the day's rising

He rode singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.

Hope he rekindled, and in hope ended;

Over death, over dread, over doom lifted

Out of loss, out of life, unto long glory.

He may have died but from his ash a fire shall

Be woken, Ellesar indeed has passed

In this darkest hour. Oh Great Ellesar!

Oh Great King! Come all to praise our fallen king!

Behind Pippin walked Queen Arwen with her son Eldarion beside her. Arwen wore long robes of black and a dark veil covered her pale, beautiful face. Despite the loss, her head was still held high, though her walk was slower as if the great grief on her shoulders made it a struggle to take each step. Soon the procession reached the Tombs where the casket entered followed only by the King's closest friends and allies.

Upon entering the Tombs, Gandalf, Legolas, Faramir and Eomer gently placed the casket down on a great platform around which all were gathered. Legolas then sang and his soft voice carried with it the pain and sadness of his heart.

"Et eärello endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta"

Faramir then spoke, "Out of the Great Sea to Middle-Earth I am come. In this place I will abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world."

Gandalf then responded, "Here is where Aragorn son of Arathorn, King of Gondor, shall now abide, may he finally be at peace."

The four then lifted the casket and began to bring it over to the great memorial upon which it would be placed. Suddenly, Merry, who was weeping uncontrollably, stepped out of the crowd and found himself crying out.

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken:

The crownless again shall be king.

The casket had been placed and all stared at the little hobbit. Gandalf walked over to him, smiled, and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Then, in silence, they began to solemnly file out of the Tombs, everyone too overcome with emotion to speak.


	8. Comforting

Hey, here is another chapter. Sorry about the delay, my computer decided it didn't like Microsoft Word anymore, and it took me awhile to get a hold of the story. Please R/R, we hope you are enjoying the story. We don't own any of the characters, they belong to Tolkien, Homer, whoever wrote Gladiator.

--

The day was mournful. Faramir walked alone in the garden contemplating the battle and the days that lay ahead. He was glad he had made peace with Eowyn, he did not like to fight with her and after almost dying he wanted to be at peace with her forever.

He looked around; the large city had never felt so empty. The King was dead. He imagined it was hard for the future King who did not really understand death. He walked along the rows of plants that had been recently planted. He smiled at the work of Samwise Gamgee. While the other two hobbits had been concerning themselves with war and food, Samwise had been planting flowers all over the city. He smiled, and stopped to observe two plants. They were under a tree, and Faramir bent to look at them better. He took a glance up at the tree though; there were few trees in Minas Tirith's gardens.

"Are you an elf?" He asked. He had not realized it before, but someone was sitting in the tree looking at him.

The person laughed, "No Father."

"Well then, why are you there?"

"Father, please be quiet, I don't want to be found!" Elboron pleaded.

Faramir laughed, and grabbed one of the branches. Knowing that Eowyn would not appreciate him doing this, he lifted himself easily into the tree and sat down on one of the branches next to his son. He realized that this was a wonderful hiding spot, the leaves were thick, and one could not see unless they were standing directly under the tree.

"Avoiding lessons again?" Faramir smiled knowingly.

"I want to learn sword fighting Father!" Elboron told him. "It's boring, studying from books. I'm going to a Captain of Gondor, I don't need books!"

"How much you sound like your Uncle Borormir!" Faramir sighed and shook his head. "Your Uncle though knew the importance of learning, but that didn't make him want to learn it anyway. Captains of Gondor need to be smart, and need to be able to read and write! Many of our war strategies come from the past, from the greatest warriors in Gondorian history. I am afraid son, that you need these lessons to be a Captain of Gondor."

"Sh!" Elboron's eyes grew wide as he heard a man's voice calling his name from the garden below.

Father and son looked down to see a man walking in the gardens calling, "Elboron! Elboron!"

They looked at each other, and Faramir smiled, though he stayed quiet. Elboron's tutor moved on to another part of the city.

"That was close," Elboron was enjoying his little adventure.

"It was, if he had found us, your mother would have found out and then I would be the one in trouble," Faramir told his son.

"Though speaking as a father, you should not be climbing trees!"

"Why?"

"Its dangerous, and you could fall," Faramir told him.

"I'm not afraid!"

Faramir laughed, "I do not doubt that."

"Father, did you like studying? My tutor said you did."

"Yes, I did, Elboron. I spent most of my childhood in the library," said Faramir.

"Why?" Elboron looked amazed that anyone would spend time in a library.

"I find books as interesting as much as your Uncle Boromir loved fighting. I hope you learn to appreciate both."

--

Legolas walked slowly into the large stone room. It was dark and the only light came from a high window, which shone down and illuminated the body of his dead father. As he approached the sarcophagus of the Great Thranduil, he admired his father's face, which appeared younger and more beautiful than in life. It was almost as if he had merely closed his eyes for a moment, and would soon wake. Yet he would not wake, he would never wake. He knelt down before him and softly whispered an ancient elvish prayer. Upon opening his eyes, he saw a shadow and realized that Gimli had knelt down beside him. They knelt there, silently, for a long time, until at last, Legolas spoke and his voice was full of grief.

"I finally understand you mortals. I have lived for so many years never experiencing death or tasting the bitterness of mortality. Yet now I have, and now I truly understand its burden. All my life I have been immortal, invulnerable. I had never truly loved or truly hated, truly rejoiced or truly despaired. Never before had I known what it was to be alive until I joined the fellowship. Interesting that I learned so much about what it is to live from those who spend such a short time in this world. With the fellowship, I felt both great love, and now, deep despair. Aragorn is dead. Even though I knew that he was mortal and that whether by the sword or the slow decay of time he would indeed die, I never in my heart believed it. I could never have thought that so great a man could indeed perish, that such a beacon of hope could be snuffed out in an instant. Yes, I now know what it is to be mortal, the pain, the suffering. My father, my dear father, who was to me the center of the world, the epitome of the eternal, and stable, is no longer. He should be here now. He should have returned home to Mirkwood in glory as always. But now he shall never again see the beauty of the sunrise over the Misty Mountains, or talk to the trees and watch as their leaves fall to the earth, dead and lifeless. He should not have died. Now my world has come crashing down. I have lost two men whom I loved, one as a father, the other as a brother, and both I shall sorely miss. Death, cruel death has slayed the greatest of our time."

Gimli looked over at his companion and he could see the suffering is his eyes. It caused him great pain knowing that his greatest friend was suffering and there was nothing, which he could do to ease his pain. He had known Legolas for many years now, and this was the first time he had seen him in such despair.

"Legolas, both Aragorn and your father died nobly. They died defending those they love and they will never be forgotten. They will be images of the greatness of the kings of old in glory undimmed before the breaking of the world. They did not die in vain and through their great sacrifices this world will finally know peace."

"Will it Gimli, will it? Will we ever know peace in this world? There is so much death, so much pain. Look at my father's face and you shall see that he is at peace. Is that the only way to peace, through death? If so, then what are we holding on to, remaining in such a world?"

"No, my dear Legolas, there is good in this world, and it's worth fighting for. We shall see happier days. You shall see the sunrise and the leaves fall back home in Mirkwood, and then you shall remember your father. Perhaps someday you may see him, across the sea, far away. But not yet, not yet. You still have so much to do, to be. We shall fight and we shall be victorious, because I still have hope that if we join together evil cannot possibly endure."

Legolas got up and looked around. It was so dark and cold there. "Will you walk with me Gimli? My heart is in need of light."

Gimli got up too, and together the two friends walked out of the room and out of the city. They walked in silence, and Legolas took deep breaths, taking in the cool air. So much had happened in the short time he had been back in Minas Tirith. Legolas and Gimli approached Anduin River where it flowed to the sea. Legolas stopped and looked, his eyes never leaving the water.

"The sea is calling me home," Legolas had his arms folded over his chest, and his eyes gazed out at the river. "The clear blue water is calling to me."

"Not yet laddie... not yet," Gimli looked up at him. He looked out at the river. "There is work for you to do here yet." His concern was growing for his friend, he could not leave Middle Earth, not yet, and not without him.

"I wish to build a ship and sail down the river toward the sea. I see their faces... and hear their voices. They are waiting for me by the shores of the Havens. As I walk through the forests thinking of them, they walk with me, and they speak to me, and even now I hear their voices and they say, 'Welcome brother.'. They wish for me to join them, there is peace there, and no war," Legolas took a step forward. He never blinked as he looked out at the river. "Peace."

"One day my friend, but until that day, we will be together, working toward peace. We will help others not experience the pain and suffering of war. You will meet your father and the elves you once knew one day, but today is not your day."

"My dear friend, you have such hope. You have indeed lightened my heart in this dark hour. Let us take our leave of here, tomorrow brings a great council, of all who remain to determine this world we will in. Perhaps with the union of all the peoples of Middle Earth we shall indeed conquer this great evil."

--

It was strange for the three hobbits to be walking around Minas Tirith together. Usually someone else was with them, or it was not all three of them. The world though was mourning, and the hobbits could not just sit inside.

"It's been eleven years since the ring was destroyed," Pippin told the other two hobbits as they walked down the street in the great white city.

At the mention of the ring, Sam stopped walking. The memories of the War of the Ring haunted Sam, and only he and Frodo knew what dangers they had faced. Sam and Frodo never mentioned their adventures to anyone, not even Gandalf. It was their secret, their dark past that would always be with them, and of which they didn't want anyone else to be frightened with.

"Mr. Frodo... I shouldn't have left him!" Sam said weakly. "He needs me."

"He will be fine Sam, don't worry. Rosie is watching him," Merry stopped walking too. He turned around and tried to comfort Sam.

"But he never feels well on this day. He needs me... he needs his Samwise."

"Sam listen to me," Merry put a hand on his shoulder. "You have always been there for Frodo most of your life. No matter what you think though, you cannot always be there for him. He will be fine, he is good hands. No matter what evils he sees in his mind, and what memories haunt him, he is safe in the Shire around those who love him."

"He needs me though."

"He has you, Sam. He knows that even now you are watching over him. By fighting here, you are protecting the Shire, and Bag End."

"You didn't see him though on Mount Doom, he was so weak. He had put everything into destroying that ring, his whole being. By the end he was crawling, he couldn't even stand. I never saw any hobbit so brave and determined. You never saw him then; he was stripped of everything, and all he knew, all he thought, just to get rid of that ring. He would have died without me, and I swore to myself that no matter what, I would never leave him. I swore as I held him in my arms that I would never let go."

"You haven't betrayed your promise," Merry told him. "We fight for Frodo, the Shire, Buckland, Tookborough and all the lands that are between here and the Shire. By fighting, you are protecting him. Never fear."

The three hobbits continued to walk, each with their mind on different people and different times, but with the same thought of protecting those they loved.

--

Paris stood outside under the stars, facing the courtyard wall with his bow and a few arrows by his side. He picked up one of the arrows, put it in the bow, and lifted it up. With all his concentration at the dummy that he had put up on the wall, he let the arrow go with a loud grunt. He watched as it soared to the dummy and hit it right in the torso area. There on the dummy were already three arrows all in the area of the torso. He lifted another arrow and repeated the exercise. He did this repeatedly until an amused voice interrupted him.

"What are you doing?" Hector asked as he walked toward his brother laughing slightly. He was shirtless, and with a robe over his bare shoulders. The robe however was opened, as it was a warm evening.

"Laugh all you want," Paris snapped not turning to his brother. Who was dressed similar, "I find nothing funny about this though."

"What ails you brother?" Hector asked sitting down on a bench.

"Everything, this place, the people, you, you laughing," Paris lifted another arrow and released it to the target.

"I? What have I done?" asked Hector.

Paris threw his bow to the ground. He looked up at the stars and then at Hector, "Your first real war and you handle yourself fine. No one needed to die for you; you could handle your own battles! Me? I can't even do that. I was not ready for what we faced, I'm not like you."

Hector stood up and went over to his brother; "Do you not think I was shaking inside? That I was not fearful? That I am some kind of hero? I was more nervous than you could tell my brother."

"No one died for you though," Paris lowered his head. "I didn't know him, I had barely had two words with him, and just like that he gave up his life for me. Just like that. Without a thought. Why?"

"Do not question his motives," Hector told him. He placed a hand on his shoulder, "Honor him and his decision. Ask yourself if you are that willing. It takes a brave man to do that, it takes an honorable man."

Hector sighed and turned his back to Paris. He gazed at the stone white walls and the courtyard that they were in. He turned back to Paris; "Do you not feel out of place here, brother? This great city, so many great people here, don't you try to fathom their lives? I have, and I cannot figure them out. They are all so brave, so willing to fight for peace, and even the smallest are experienced in war. We are in the presence of heroes. They know the ultimate sacrifice, they know what war is."

"The smallest hobbit could kill me in a second. Someone who is half my size, has double the amount of talent in battle. Does that not make you ashamed of me?" Paris asked his brother.

"Paris you are young, and the world is before you. Take each day and learn from it, and always aim to improve. You question one man's choice to die for another and that is fine. Today I saw many men give their lives for their country without questioning. Men challenged a demon, a godlike figure without asking why. They did for their country. Would you not do the same?"

Paris didn't answer right away. He picked up his bow again and examined it, "I don't know. I wish I could answer you in a heartbeat. I wish I could say yes, yes of course, I would. However, I was frightened by the battle, and I do not want to be in that situation again. But yet, I am ashamed, I am a man, my place is out there fighting, yet I am a coward."

"A coward would not be able to admit that. Everyone is afraid Paris, everyone is terrified of what is to come. But what separates men from cowards is how they battle their fears. Do they let it overcome them, overpower them so they flee inside themselves, or does love over take them and they fight for what they believe in? Find that within yourself and you will earn the respect of those around you. You will become who you wish to be. Never be afraid, my brother, to question yourself, if you don't then you have become a coward. When you stop questioning and looking at yourself, you have become too afraid to face the answers of the questions you should be asking."

"I want to fight like you and Faramir," Paris admitted.

"Not all men are born warriors. Some are scholars, some are lovers. But you practice, and you face your fears and control them, you can be both. Be at peace, my brother, do not let guilt overcome you. You are young, and have much time to grow into the man you will become. Honor the man who died for you, fight for him, fight your country, and fight for yourself."

Hector looked at his brother, who was still holding the bow and examining it. He sighed, and then spoke, "You know, I spoke with Father before coming here. He was concerned about your willingness to come. You are young, the world is before you, and you jumped at the opportunity to fight. Why?"

"We just fought a battle and now you ask why?" Paris joked but turned his back to his brother and walked away. He stopped though, "I suppose I am like all young men, wanting their first taste at war. Were you not the same?"

"To a lesser degree."

"Do you want to know the real reason I came?" Paris turned to face Hector. "All my life I've lived in your shadow. You are the first born, you reap the glory, this is the way of the world. But have I ever complained brother? Have I ever asked you for anything?"

"No."

"I thought by coming here I could gain the one thing I have not. I want to be like you, I'm just the second born, no one expects much out of me. I don't care about that though, I don't need anyone to be proud of me...except you. I came here hoping to make you proud of me."

Hector had walked up to his brother as Paris spoke. Hector gripped his shoulder comfortingly, "You will."

"Thank you my brother. You have comforted me," Paris hugged Hector tightly.

"Then get some sleep. Who knows what the morning will bring," Hector hugged him back.


	9. Councils

**Hey, I'm back. Sorry, about the delays in posting. College hockey takes up a lot of time, as does school. Hope you enjoy this chapter, we own none of the characters. They belong to Tolkien, Homer, and other people. **

-

Faramir awoke after a short and restless sleep. No matter how hard he tried he could not take his mind off the great losses of the battle. The faces of his fallen comrades, his brothers, and their burning bodies were emblazoned on his memory. As he dressed, he tried to remember the greater good for which they fought and the victory that had come as a result of their sacrifice. Yet he could not. He could not feel victorious with so many dead and so much pain.

He splashed his face with the cool water from the basin and tried to wash away the painful memories. He patted his face dry and turned to the bed. It was then that he remembered why they were fighting and dying. He remembered what in this world that was so precious that it needed to be protected by their very lives. He walked over to the bed and stroked his wife's golden hair and kissed her forehead. She looked so beautiful and peaceful. No doubt she was dreaming of happier times away from the war and chaos that plagued them now.

It is for our families and those we love, and this fair city that we fight and diehe thought. He knew then that he would be willing to fight, to suffer, to die in order to protect those he loved. In order to make real that dream of peace.

He kissed her once again and walked down the dark stone hallway. It was not yet dawn but he had felt a strong need to walk, to think. He walked past the rooms, most of which were dark, until he saw a light in one of them. He knew what lay in that room, the body of King Thranduil. He also knew who was within. Legolas visited that room as often as he could. Faramir also guessed, since an elf needed little rest, that he sat in there throughout the evenings as well. He looked in and indeed saw Legolas kneeling before his father and he saw the pain and suffering in his eyes.

He walked past, not wanting to intrude on Legolas' mourning. He paid no mind to where he was walking and just let his feet take him where they would. Soon he realized that he was following a familiar route, to his childhood escape in the gardens. So he went and sat in his little nook, protected by the great tree looming above him. There he sat and waited for the sun to rise and paint the stone city red and gold, just as it had been painted so by man's blood and greed. Somehow the sunrise always filled his heart with hope and joy. He felt that no matter what happened, or would happen, the dawn would always come just as it always had. It was one of the few things in the world in which one could have faith. It gave a sense of stability in a world of chaos.

"I see that you still love to watch the dawn, my friend." Spoke a familiar voice at Faramir's shoulder. He turned and saw, kneeling beside him, Hector. The pale light of dawn served to illuminate Hector's brown eyes and hair, adding a luster of youth which reminded Faramir of the boy he knew long ago. He had just left his brother to see another person restless from the past day's events.

"Remember when we played together as children, Faramir? Your brother and I would usually practice swordplay and reenact the old battles glorified in our poetry. We would try to convince you to play with us, but you preferred to sit and read in this very spot. You were much wiser than we were, even then. We reveled in the sword and the glory of battle, yet we did not truly understand it. Alas, now we understand it all too well. It sounded so heroic but it was all just a game to us. We had not even seen a man die in combat let alone killed by our own hand. Now I have seen them die, heard their screams, and there is nothing glorious about it. Nothing poetic. We said we would die for honor yet we knew nothing about dying. You were wise to seek knowledge rather than warfare. Now I would die to see such peace in our realm as there was in our youth."

Faramir smiled and looked to Hector and said, "So, my dear Hector, the brave warrior, is sick of war?"

Hector gave a bitter smile for a moment and then his face fell, and again was serious. "Yes, but it would not matter if I were sick of war for we have been sent war and so it shall be. I would love to be back in fair Dol Amroth with my beautiful Amdromache and my newborn son in my arms. But I have decided to defend my people, and so must we all. Perhaps in our days, or the days of our sons, we shall have time enough at peace to ask ourselves what we are fighting for. I would that our sons were taught language and learning rather than swordsmanship and strategy. I would that they were never exposed to this evil that is war. But perhaps I am too idealistic."

"No Hector, our sons will know peace even if we must give our very lives for it. They will know peace. That is why we are fighting. For ourselves we keep no hope, it is for our sons and our wives and all those we love that we fight."

"Yes Faramir, again you have proven to be the wiser. I am glad to be reunited with you brother, your wisdom indeed is a great hope in these perilous times."

"Wisdom is a wonderful thing, that is true, but Gondor would have fallen already if we did not have such a great warrior as Hector fighting alongside us. You have praised me for my skill in learning but your skill in warfare should also be praised. Battles are not won solely by wisdom, my friend."

"Very well, you are right. Yet now we must talk strategy. The morning has passed so quickly and already it is time to attend the council. Come, my friend, let us go."

-

The days following the battle were mournful. The residents of the city were forced inside, as rain poured down on the city for two days straight. Merry often watched the rain as it threatened to flood the city. The black clouds showed no signs of moving on, and the rain did not let up. Sam, at first was happy about the rain for it watered his work, and encouraged the flowers to grow, but now he was getting anxious. He complained that his plants would be dead, and drowned by the rain. Merry liked the rain however, he didn't think the sun was appropriate after so much destruction. How could the sun be shining, and dancing around in the sky, when so many brave soldiers were dead? Or when King Elessar, the hope of Middle Earth was no longer alive?

However, after the third day of straight rain, the sun came out slowly from beneath the clouds. Merry smiled at it, it was time for the world to move on. No one would ever forget those who were lost, but a new day had come, and the fight would continue.

Faramir walked into the throne room and saw that it was empty. Since he was so early for the council meeting he had expected that it would be. He felt some comfort in the throne room. Though he never had fond memories with his father here, he did remember some other pleasant moments from his childhood. He remembered when he and his brother would sneak in the room when their father was elsewhere. They would act out the stories of the old kings and Boromir would sit in the King's throne. Faramir never cared for playing the king, rather he would play the elves or wizards, those who were older and wiser. Somehow they never managed to get caught by their father. As he walked past the statues lining the walls he remembered yet another memory of his youth. He remembered when he was a young child and the Grey Pilgrim had arrived to look at the archives. He had entered the throne room expecting to see the Steward of Gondor, instead he saw two small children acting out a great battle. Immediately the two boys stopped and stared at the old man, looking guilty.

"So, Boromir and Faramir, I would have expected to see you at your lessons." said the old man.

"But I don't like our lessons, I would rather study knights and battles and dragons!" said Boromir as he waved his wooden sword around.

"Well, I too will admit that many of the lessons these tutors teach are boring and useless. However, there is more to learn than warfare, there is much in your history that is interesting and worth knowing. For example, do you know who these men are?" Gandalf said as he gestured to the statues.

"Well they are great men in Gondor's history, that is all I know," said Boromir.

"And why are they so great?"

"They are the Kings of Gondor," said Faramir.

"Yes, you are right Faramir, but do you boys know the stories of these kings"

The two boys shook their heads and Gandalf went to each statue and told beautiful stories of bravery, leadership, strength and virtue.

"See, now have you learned something." Said Gandalf.

"Yes, indeed we have. I wish that you were our teacher, I would like my lessons much more if you were." Said Faramir.

Gandalf laughed.

Faramir was pulled out of his reverie but the sound of laughing behind his shoulder. At first he thought that he was simply caught up in the reminiscences, then he realized that it was actually happening. He looked behind him to see Gandalf, who was laughing.

"Do you remember when I caught you and your brother in here as children and taught you the history of the kings."

Faramir laughed, "Of course I remember, It was you that convinced me that lessons were actually worth attending."

Gandalf smiled.

"Mithrandir, there was actually something I wished to tell you."

"Well go ahead, my boy."

"I had a dream, a few nights ago, and I had the same one again last night. It began on the plains of Rohan, I could see the horses riding across the plains, unfettered and free. I saw the glittering caves and there was a blue stone. Then I saw a tomb with strange markings, and a sword, and a hallway leading to a room filled with darkness."

Gandalf merely look at him, puzzled.

"It might have been a meaningless dream but I had this strange feeling. It felt like more than a dream and it lacked the hazy confusion of a dream being surprisingly clear. Do you think it means anything Mithrandir?"

"I am glad you have told me this Faramir, for I do suspect that this was no mere dream. You said, in your dream, that you saw a sword. Do you know anything about the defeat of Melkor? Well he was defeated in a great battle long ago by a valiant man. It was said that this man carried a great sword which was able to defeat Melkor. However Melkor was only defeated in physical form, his spirit lingered and survived these many years. How he has returned now I cannot guess. But I do know that there are certain prophecies that say that with Melkor's return there will come a great hero who will wield this sword into battle. I feel that this dream of yours is a clue to the location of this sword."

Before Faramir could react to all that he had just heard, the great doors opened and men began to enter for the council meeting. All the greatest, of those who remained, were invited to this council. Once all those invited were gathered and seated, Gandalf rose and spoke the first words.

"We have endured much over the past few days. We have had to mourn many, many who died too early. Yet their deaths were not in vain. War has returned to Middle Earth. Though this battle is over Melkor's wrath will be terrible, his retribution swift. He will amass fresh armies and will not stop till the West has fallen under his shadow. Now is the time for action. Our King has indeed fallen and it is a great loss for Gondor and all of Middle Earth. Yet let us make him proud and keep his memory with us during these dark times. Aragorn was a great man and a great leader yet now others shall have to take a stand and assume leadership"

"And I am sure that you would like to be the person to do so!" shouted one man. Then there was a tumult of shouting and arguing. Until one man's voice was heard above the rest.

"War! I thought that we had finished with war when we defeated Sauron!" shouted a noble Gondorian soldier.

"Yes, so did I, so did we all. But Sauron was but a servant to Melkor. We had all believed Melkor to have been defeated, yet we were all deceived for he has returned greater than before. He is the first and greatest evil, his is a god. It will require the unity of us all in order to defeat this greatest of evils once and for all."

"If Melkor is the first and greatest evil, to defeat him would be to defeat evil itself. How can we do this? I believe that we should not risk bringing further death to our people. We cannot risk open war." spoke Anborn.

"Open war it upon you, weather you would risk it or not. War has already come to Gondor, and with it has come the death of many men. Would you have them die in vain? Would you sit and watch the armies of Melkor destroy your beloved country?"

"Trust me, I as much as any man, wishes to defend my country. It is just that it seems we are fighting a losing battle. If we act rashly and confront Melkor, we shall fail, it seems that it is impossible!"

"It is impossible only if you resign yourself to despair. There is hope for victory if you only believe in it." spoke Faramir.

"Hope? What hope do we have to defeat an evil which has always existed, which cannot die? How can you kill evil?" Anborn continued. Faramir was annoyed at Anborn's lack of faith in Mithrandir and their ability to win. So he looked over at Gandalf and they exchanged glances. This reinforced Faramir's confidence. Mithrandir was in charge and Faramir was sure that with him they could not possibly lose.

"There is still hope." Gandalf replied, "For Melkor has one weakness, a weakness which we can use to his downfall. When he was defeated before, in a battle long before our time, there was a sword that banished him into the darkness where he has dwelled ever since. History became legend, legend became myth and for thousands of years this sword passed out of all knowledge. Until now…Now that sword shall be wielded by a great hero, and as prophesied, shall be Melkor's ultimate defeat. All our hope lies in that sword. That is what we must find to gain victory."

"A sword from an ancient battle thousands of years ago? How do we even know that this sword still exists, or even if it ever existed, what hope is there in that mystery?"

"All the hopes all the people of Middle Earth. That is our quest, follow me if you will."

"I will follow you Mithrandir, if by my life or death I can solve this mystery, I will." Faramir said as he walked and stood beside Gandalf smiling.

"I too will follow you, you have led us this far and have not led us astray." Said Legolas and he walked over to Gandalf with tears in his eyes.

One by one, they all got up and stood beside Gandalf, until Anborn sat alone.

"Very well, I see little hope in this quest. But if this be our only way to achieve peace in this land then I shall join you, even if we search in vain." The man said and he stood, and walked over to Gandalf.

"Our search shall begin in Rohan, we shall only bring with us a few men who will be needed. Faramir, Eomer, Merry, would you join me in our journey to Rohan? We shall make ready and leave at dawn in two days."

-

Arwen walked alone through the city. She wandered through the gardens after her walk, and sat down on one of the lower tree branches. In the city she felt so trapped and alone, of course it was different when Aragorn was alive but…no, no she could not think of that, not when it caused her so much pain. She felt much safer around the trees and blooming flowers of the garden. They reminded her so much of Lothlorien. In fact many of the newer trees were of the same seed. Galadriel had once given Samwise a gift of seeds from Lothlorien. Most of them he had used to return the Shire to its original beauty, but he saved some, in order to share with the rest of Middle Earth. She loved the trees in Lorien so much. They were more beautiful than any of the other trees she had ever seen. She felt such a strong need to return there, to watch the leaves fall and cover the ground in gold. She was so engrossed in her memories that she did not even notice that she was no longer alone. Eowyn had wandered into the gardens herself and was kneeling next to the tree.

"Arwen…" started Eowyn, as she put her hand on the elf's, and she was suddenly lost for words. She knew that she should say something comforting, something to help ease her pain, but the words did not come to her, so they sat there in silence.

Suddenly Arwen spoke and her voice was slow and soft," These trees are so beautiful are they not? They remind me so much of Lorien. Oh how I miss Lorien. I wish I could see it again. My heart is calling me there, even though my kin there have all left these shores. I would love the sun on my face and the sound of the wind rustling the leaves in the trees. The golden sunset and the burning red leaves. I am so tired, Eowyn, so very tired. I feel the life of the Eldar has left me. I have given up my life's grace and my immortality, and now I feel so weak and so very tired. I feel an end coming. I must see my home, one last time, before…before I am too tired. I am so sorry; this is probably making no sense to you. I am sorry."

"No, Arwen, no. You should say these things; you cannot keep it all inside."

"But do you understand me, Eowyn. I'm dying. No, don't try to tell me it's not true, because I know in my heart that it is. And I must return home. I must go back to my home to rest, to rest for eternity, until my spirit finds Aragorn in the fields faraway. Where Beren and Luthien are in each others arms, where he waits for me."

"But Arwen, what of your son? You cannot just leave him?"

"I love Eldarion so very much. But I know that I am fading, I am on the verge of leaving the world, and my beloved son. But you must understand that I must return to Lorien. Eldarion is a brave, strong boy. I am sure he will be a great king one day, just like his father. Tell him I love him, Eowyn, I want him to know that. Promise me you will tell him, and that you will take care of him after….after I've gone."

"I promise, I promise." Said Eowyn, and Arwen rose, slowly, kissed her on the forehead, and then walked away. That was the last time Eowyn, or any other mortal, saw Arwen Undomiel.


	10. Falling in Love

**Here's another chapter. After I didn't post for so long, I'm going to get these chapters out quick. I'm on vacation and finally have the time. I hope you enjoy it, and remember, we don't own any of the characters. We wish we did, but they belong to Tolkien, whoever wrote Gladiator, Homer, everyone but else basically.**

-

After the company traveling to Rohan departed, Paris returned to his room. However he could not focus, he tried to distract himself by reading, fencing, shooting arrows, but nothing could take his mind off of her. They had not even spoken, he had merely seen her across the room and felt something he could not even identify. Yet now he knew what it was. He had known many beautiful women during his life and they were nothing more to him than prizes. With Lucilla however, it was somehow different. He remembered the previous night's goodbye dinner. That night she was indeed beautiful, her dark brown hair and alabaster skin offset by her deep crimson dress. Her long hair was plaited down her back with red ribbons. However what made her stand out among the other beautiful women were her dark eyes. Behind those eyes laid a keen intelligence and wit which separated her from the fawning, vapid women he was used to knowing. He knew that this was a woman who knew something of the world; one who had endured joy and pain. Then there was her smile. During dinner he saw that she talked intently with the woman beside her, and though she maintained a composed, sophisticated demeanor throughout most of the dinner, she would occasionally smile and in that smile was revealed all her compassion, love and humility.

He kept forgetting that he did not even know this woman. How could he feel so strongly for a woman he had only just met? He had been introduced to her and for a moment their eyes met as he took her hand and kissed it. He wanted to say something intelligent and charming yet he could find no words. Romance had always come naturally to him and he never had trouble wooing women, yet he did now. As he was about to speak she was dragged off by her brother in order to finish the rounds of introductions. His hands immediately ached with the loss of hers. He spoke very little during that dinner. He had tried to make conversation, yet it was forced and constantly interrupted because his eyes would wander over to her and he'd lose concentration. Eventually the dinner ended and he returned to his room. He hadn't known how conspicuous he had been at dinner until Hector knocked on his door very soon after dinner. Hector had seen how he stared at Lucilla though he claimed that no one else had noticed. Paris had never before known love and was unsure as to his feelings, so he asked his brother how one would know if they were in love.

"May I ask you something, and will you be truly honest?" Paris asked Hector hesitantly.

Hector laughed, "The last time you spoke to me like this you were ten years old and you'd just stolen father's horse. What have you done now?"

"Well, it is not about something I've done, it's about something I feel. Brother, when did you first realize that you were in love with Andromache? How did you know that it was different, and even if it was different how did you know that it was necessarily love and not something else?"

"Well, little brother, that is a very difficult question to answer. I remember when I first met Andromache that it felt like the most normal thing in the world. It felt as if she had always been in my life and I tried to imagine my life before I met her and I could not. She had this grace and humor about her that was irresistible. Then her face showed so much about her character. I could tell that she tried to hide her emotions and keep a serious demeanor yet through that shone her humor and happiness. It was almost intoxicating. I guess that is what love is."

"So you think that it is possible to know a person better than you've ever known someone even if you have never spoken?"

"Well actually, yes, yes I believe that is possible."

Paris merely nodded at this and his eyes stared off into the blankness of the bare stone wall.

"Well, never would I have thought I'd see the day that my little brother would fall in love and be tamed by a woman." Hector said as they both smiled.

Paris was snapped out of his daydreaming by a knock at the door. He got up off the bed and opened the door.

"My Lord Paris, I hope I did not disturb you?"

"Oh no, no you did not."

"Well I just came to inform you that dinner will be served in one hour up in the great hall."

"Thank you, I shall see you up there."

Paris shut the door and paced around his room for a few moments before he opened his door and stepped out into the hallway. He had not planned where he was going, he simply walked. It was a beautiful day and the reflection of the setting sun off the white stone lit up the city in crimson and violet. He started walking toward the great hall, even though he was much too early for dinner. Instead of entering the hall he continued to walk and found himself entering the Citadel and walking down into the great archives of Gondor. He had only been down there a few times, since he had never cared much for the life of the scholar. Yet he felt naturally attracted to it and he perused the dusty shelves looking for he knew not what. He picked up a scroll, one of the few that was actually written in the Common Tongue, most were written in Elvish or indecipherable runes.

He read and realized that it was a history of the Kings of Gondor. He had only been reading for a few moments when he heard a rustle of papers. He saw nothing moving so he got up and walked over to the other side of the shelves. He stood there for a moment, mouth gaping, because sitting there clad in light blue, was Lucilla. She had several scrolls fanned out in front of her, most of which were in languages unknown to him. He stood there for a moment until the large amount of dust caused him to sneeze and her to look up.

"Oh, I am sorry I did not see anyone there. You are the Prince Paris, right? I remember meeting you at the dinner the other night, unfortunately we did not get to speak on that occasion. But what are you doing down here in the archives?"

It took Paris a moment to understand all that she had said. At first the immediate shock of her speaking made it difficult to pay attention, then the elation that followed her saying his name prevented him from truly understanding the rest of her statement.

"Oh, uh, um, I am just exploring, there is so much fascinating history in these archives and I am sorry to say that I have explored very little of it in my visits here. However, may I ask the same question of you? What does a princess like yourself have to find in a dusty old archive"

"Well, a princess like myself can find much in such an archive. There is more to a princess than dresses and dinners. I happen to love studying the old languages, as much as my limited training will allow me. Right now I am searching for some information on the Kings of Gondor and their relation to the royalty in Rohan, perhaps there is some sort of connection that will explain the journey being taken"

"You are searching for information on the kings? Wait just a moment…" Paris said as he rushed out to find the scroll he had been viewing. He was in a daze and could not believe that he was actually talking to Lucilla. He had again tried to be charming but what had happened was something entirely different. He hoped that he was making a good impression on her. He grabbed the scroll and rushed back and handed it to her.

"Here it is, I hope this will be useful."

"Where did you find this? This is amazing…" she said as she read the scroll.

She continued reading for awhile then stopped. "I couldn't find any connection, however this is very informative and useful. We must remember to show this to Gandalf when they return. So do you come often to Minas Tirith?"

Paris was initially surprised when she asked him a question about himself and it took a minute for him to answer.

"Well, I would come more often as a child, I had not been to Minas Tirith for many years. There have been many troubles in our land. Our borders have required relentless defense, orcs have been attacking and it has required much of our attention. My father Imrahil, has sent many armies, led by my brother, Hector, out to defend our land. Hector, had been away defending our country only to return home to be sent away again. Alas, we have not visited Minas Tirith in peace for many a year."

"Yes, I should feel lucky that back home in Rome it is peaceful and safe. Our country is a new settlement and has not yet endured the attacks of the orcs. However my brother did not trust to have me remain there. He felt that if the orcs should choose to attack Rome there would be too few men to defend it. Of course the rogue orcs are no more, they have all joined with the Dark Lord to be in his armies. So I feel that Rome is safe. Well, as safe as anywhere else in Middle Earth. These are no longer safe times, they are indeed perilous times. I only hope that when I return to Rome that it will not be in ashes, or worse, controlled by the Dark Lord."

"No, no it will not. My reason tells me that we are facing our doom but my heart is light. Lucilla, now that I have you I believe that no darkness will endure." Paris spoke passionately as he took her hand and brought it to his lips.

After arriving in Rohan and attending a great feast, the travelers gathered in the Golden Hall for what was meant to be a short meeting before retiring for the night.

Following tradition, Eomer, as king of the realm, was the first to speak, "I would like to welcome all of you to Rohan. I hope that you find the city of my fathers to be comfortable enough after our long journey. Beds have been set up in the rooms and you all may retire to them if you wish. I know that we are all exhausted and could use the rest to gather strength for the days to come. I bid you goodnight."

Eomer bowed and was about to leave the room when the voice of a young man called him back.

"Wait just a moment! Before we retire for the night, I would like to know our intentions in Rohan. How long do we plan on staying? And for what purpose? I decided to come on this journey in Minas Tirith and I assumed that those in change had a plan in coming here. Now that we have arrived, I demand to know what is going on."

Eomer just stood, dumfounded for a moment, when Faramir stood up and replied to the man's interrogations.

"May I answer this question, Eomer, it is because of me that we are here?" Faramir asked, and Eomer nodded.

"I know that you all have your questions and your doubts, and rightfully so. Aragorn was a great king and a great man. We are only trying to protect our world as he would have done, and I truly believe that our coming here is necessary in order to accomplish that."

"But why should we trust you? What reason have you given us to know that we are not merely here on a whim? Or worse, in order to run from the battle, which is not in Rohan but in Gondor, on its very doorstep? Who knows, perhaps the enemy is there now, feasting in our halls and sleeping in our beds?"

Faramir was about to speak but before he could, Mithrandir's voice echoed in the hall, "If you are accusing Faramir, Steward of Gondor, of treachery then you may as well accuse any man in this room. Faramir has done nothing but defend and protect his country his entire life. Who fought bravely at Osgiliath when it was Gondor's last defense against Sauron's forces?"

"Yes, and who also ran away when the enemy was too much for him? That is not bravery to me, Mithrandir, no, that is cowardice."

"Indeed Faramir and his men fled, but that was to protect his men. He knew that he was fighting a losing battle and believed it better to return to defend Minas Tirith. It is a brave man who knows when to retreat and when to fight. There is no shame in that. Indeed, when Denethor asked Faramir to return to Osgiliath, he returned, although he knew it would mean his death. I had tried to convince him to stay but he refused, valuing his country more than his life. You are but a young man and do not yet understand the way of war. You fought in one battle and now feel that you are an expert in the area, but you are not. You will find no man more loyal and true than Faramir, I can assure you."

"Really, loyal you say? Well I find it very suspicious that with Aragorn dead, Faramir is so quick to become the leader. Perhaps he has regretted giving up all that power so long ago? Perhaps he secretly longed for the days of the Stewards?"

"Faramir had no desire for power and gave it up willingly. Something which I have yet to see another man do. He was given absolute power, yet did not wish for it, in fact he gave it up. How many men could have done the same?"

It appeared as if Gandalf had won the debate, because the man remained silent and stalked out of the room, and the rest of the men followed after, until just Gandalf and Faramir remained.

"Do not let them trouble you, Faramir," Gandalf said, as he placed a hand on his shoulder, "Even Aragorn was not accepted by everyone, there are always those who are difficult to convince. But pay no mind to them, one day they shall see. One day they will understand….Goodnight."

And Gandalf walked out of the room, and down the hallway, leaving Faramir alone in the hall.

Everyone talked lively, and laughed while they ate, except Paris. He ate but his eyes remained on Lucilla who sat across from him. She knew the young man was looking at her, but she did not return the stare.

When she got up suddenly as the meal was ending, Paris jumped up too. He spoke quickly, "May I walk with you?" He asked to the amusement of everyone gathered.

Lucilla agreed at once. Paris quickly walked to the other side of the table and took her arm. They walked out with the eyes of everyone on them.

Hector and Maximus exchanged a smile but both went back to their meal.

"It's a beautiful evening for a walk," Paris commented.

"Where do you live Paris?" Lucilla asked. She looked at the tall young man with his curly dark hair and his brown eyes. "We have talked about my home, what of yours? What is it like?"

"In Dol Amroth," He responded. He looked back at her, her beautiful brown eyes stared back into his.

"Is it nice there?"

"Yes, it is quite beautiful," Paris nodded. "I do hate to leave it."

"It is on the coast, is it not?" Lucilla asked.

"That it is," Paris smiled. "Its beautiful. The water is so blue, and in the mornings as the sun rises it reflects off the water, it is quite a sight. I have watched the sun rise many times, and also set. The water is so blue and clear; you can see the fish swimming around in the water. As far as the eye can see it is blue. I watch the sunrise and sometimes it is indescribable. The way the sun hits the water as it rises… and the birds as they fly looking for their morning meal."

"I've never seen a sight like that," Lucilla told him sadly.

"Then, when all this is over, you must come with me, and together we can watch the sun," Paris told her.

"I would like that," she smiled and moved closer to him, "I would like that ever so much."

He smiled down at her and together they walked through the streets of Gondor ignoring everyone but each other.

Hector had gone to his room shortly after his brother had left the table. He wandered around in his room for awhile feeling restless. He tried to find sleep, but none came to him. He walked to the balcony and looked out toward the city. The breeze came and hit his bare chest. He closed his eyes for a second, glad of the breeze, as he was feeling hot. He opened them again and looked out toward the city. He always had loved Minas Tirith, and when he was younger took advantage of any time spent in the city in the company of his two older cousins. He was about to go back into his room, when he caught sight of two figures walking down below his room. He smiled as he recognized his brother's figure. He had noticed the look in Paris' eyes and knew something had changed in his behavior.

"Oh Andromache," He whispered. "I wish I could see you." He now left the balcony and went to the desk where he picked up the latest letter from his wife. She wrote him daily about the doings of the city and their son. He missed both terribly. He sat down at the desk and considered his reply letter to her.


End file.
